Up Close & Personal
by spicehnoodles
Summary: — Have you ever woken up inside your ex's bedroom, who doesn't remember you, and all of a sudden it's 2008? Yeah, well, Courtney has. —
1. her & him

**Full Summary: **_Despite the situation being beyond farfetched, she knew, deep inside where the tiny vulnerable piece of her heart lolled, that it was as if this was a chance to know who he truly was. Before the Total Drama craze, before they all changed in the most horrible ways, she found out who Duncan was. And it hurt her — even if she denied it — to know that it had to take such warped measures for her to find out.

* * *

_

Samantha held her daughter's motionless hand gently with her slightly wrinkled ones. She stroked her daughter's hand with her fingers gingerly, softly. She hummed a lullaby, the delicate sound dancing in the air with grace of a ballerina. The lullaby was soothing to the ears, but it was a shame to know only Samantha's ears would hear it. But, although her daughter was "asleep," she might hear it, as well. It would be faint or like a soft murmur. She would hear it. And Samantha hoped, with all her being, she hoped that she would hear it.

The doctor was careful with his words as he spoke to the woman. Sympathy washed over him, sinking into his being, and prodding at his heart repeatedly. He didn't want to feel such emotions, because he was afraid he would get quite close with this particular patient. This was the second comatose patient he had in the last ten years. He had hoped he wouldn't get another, because he had gotten close with the previous patient he had.

The previous patient had died. She had been "asleep" for almost three years.

He continued writing down his analysis towards the patients. He jotted down information such as this patient being in coma for already six days. He didn't want to assume she was going to actually be in a long-term coma, but an irking notion in him confirmed that subtle assumption.

"I will be doing a blood test, Mrs. Simmons," he informed Samantha softly. "Usage of the Glasgow Coma Scale is in order, as well as a CT scan and electrocardiogram. In case you're wondering about the Glasgow Coma Scale, it is — "

Samantha scoffed bitterly. "I know what it is," she said curtly. "And why are you doing so many tests and scans on her? She's just asleep for a while. Nothing _vital_." She knew she was being discourteous to someone adroit in this specific field. She just wanted to be alone with her daughter. She didn't want to hear anything concerning her state. "Please leave."

The doctor, Dr. Ramirez, wasn't one to be ordered around by a relative of his patient — in actuality, it was the other way around — but he knew how distraught she was most likely feeling inside. He knew better than to trouble that feeling. He finished up his notes, nodded at Samantha — who didn't bother to return the gesture — and left.

As he stepped outside of the asphyxiating, tense-filled room, he let out a deep breath he didn't realize he had been holding in.

Samantha let out a breath, as well, after the doctor departed. She controlled herself from breaking down. She wouldn't permit salty tears to taint her face; it was a sign of weakness. In spite of the fact that her daughter was "asleep," she still wouldn't show feebleness, even if it was a small smidgeon of it. She had to keep up a strong front, and she had to make sure the inside matched that front.

"Wake up, my darling," she whispered. She scolded herself inwardly when her voice broke. "Wake up … "

* * *

_a blind heart she holds, a blind heart she has_

* * *

Dark orbs opened.

Courtney sat up from the bed. Her eyes drooped a little, a flood of exhaustion and vertigo hitting her like a rain of hail. Suddenly, a hammering headache wrapped around her brain, portraying the feel of barbwire strongly. She clutched her head and bent down. It was an _agonizing _combination.

Shortly after she recuperated, she took a look of her environment.

She was in a bedroom. Assuredly it wasn't hers. Her bedroom was clean and organized, speaking her personality (a bedroom _always _showed personality) while _this _in particular was the personification of a _pigsty_. It was like a nuclear explosion of clothing occurred in the room. The walls were pitch-black — covered with posters of punk/rock/metal bands, tags, and spray-painted skulls — but it looked like it was painted messily by a toddler. The door was white; carvings of vulgarity and inappropriate images were everywhere on it. It ruined the only "pure" part of the room. A closet was near the bed; a nightstand with an alarm clock was in between them. Stacks of magazines were dumped carelessly on the side of a small desk, where a laptop was at. A round computer chair was in the middle of the room with — cue the _ultimate _grimace — a pair of boxers lying casually on the seat. On the far right corner was a table with a small TV placed on top with an Xbox 360 and its controllers next to it. The table had a cabinet below with a transparent glass that you can slide open; inside were cases of videogames and DVDs.

_This room …_ , she thought, _it's so familiar to me. Have I been here before? It's impossible, though. Obviously this person's room must belong to one of those vile _Goth _people or those … _punk_ idiots._

The word "punk" brought her to one name and one name only. She pushed the name away to the back of her mind — where it should _stay_.

To her left, there was another door where black dressers were at (some of the dressers' shelves stuck out because a shirt and other clothing were blocking it). It had black and green paint splattered all over it. There was a MEN'S ONLY sign nailed on it diagonally, but the word "MEN'S" was scratched out, replaced with the name —

The door opened.

— _Duncan_.

He shook his hair, his wet green Mohawk flailing side to side. His piercings were shining brightly and proudly. His dog collar was still on _as always_. He was towel-clad, showing his built physique.

Courtney glared, ignoring the warmness bubbling under her cheeks.

His teal eyes spotted her, widening. He made a quick motion, almost too fast for Courtney to see, and tried to cover his family jewels with his hands. Once he realized that his towel already covered that special body part, he gave her a wide stare.

He asked a question Courtney didn't expect.

"Who the _hell _are you?"

The livid stream of insults and heated sentences halted. They were about to explode from her mouth when he asked that question. It almost left her baffled and speechless. She resumed her glare.

"Ugh, I don't have time for your little _games_, Duncan," she barked. "Why am I in _your room _for God's sake? Did you go so far as to _kidnapping _me? What's going on here?"

He held up a hand, eyes still wide with confusion. He looked at her as if he didn't know her, and she didn't like it one bit. "Hey, _hey_!" he yelled. "I don't know how the hell you know me, and I don't know why the hell you're here. _I'm _the one doing all the interrogating, sweetheart. Now, I'll ask again: who the hell are you?"

Now she was speechless. _Is Duncan suffering from memory loss? He sounds as if he's speaking the truth. But then again, Duncan's a _wonderful _liar, so I shouldn't assume that. _

She knew he was lying. Although they hadn't seen each other for many months after Total Drama World Tour, it would be _implausible _for him to not remember her. He didn't have that terrible of a memory, and, considering the huge amount of history together, he should immediately recognize her even from a small peripheral glance.

She glared at him, staying tenacious.

His unibrow furrowed. "I don't know you, so get the hell outta my room." He pointed out the window.

_Impossible. _"You've played around with me _enough _already, all right? I don't need any more of this, of _you_! So stop pretending as if you don't _know _me, and tell me what's going on!"

He glowered at her. "_Look. _I'm not _pretending_; I'm not _playing around_. I don't know who you are. If I did, then we wouldn't be having this conversation, right? Now, _you _tell me what you're doing in _my _room or else I'll _force _you out of here. I did it to my brothers, I can do it to _you_," he threatened.

He was serious. She could see it in his eyes; she could hear it in his tone. She knew he was a good liar, but she knew when he was telling the truth. As he spoke, she could practically feel the honesty in his words floating to her, floating inside her mind. It felt good to hear him speak such words filled with pure honesty. It did.

"H-How — ?" She stopped after she realized that she was stuttering. She cleared her throat and tried to calm down her panicky being. "How could you not _know _me? After — " _what you had done to me _" — that dreadful reality show, after all the torture Chris inflicted upon us, after — after _everything_!"

He scratched his head roughly, groaning in frustration. "All right, woman, what the freaking hell are you talking about? What reality show? Who's Chris? After _what_? I _told you_, I don't _know you_!"

_How could you not remember me, Duncan? _Oh, she almost said those words. She almost showed her defenselessness. But she stopped herself after she _almost _crossed that line, _almost _opened her mouth again. She was known to say what was on her mind _most of the time_, and if she opened her mouth just a bit, it would come straight out without consent. When it came to her irregularly displayed vulnerable side, she knew when to shut up. She knew her limits.

She looked down and saw that she was under his blanket snugly. She noted that his bed was reasonably comfortable than being all lumpy and back-aching. But what was strange was that she was wearing her usual wardrobe. It would've made slight sense if she wore her pajamas. If that were so, however, the situation would still be in the "highly preposterous category."

"What's going _on_?" she murmured.

She heard him sigh. She faced him again and saw that he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway of his bathroom. His unibrow was still furrowed. His right cheek stuck out which made her know he was pressing his tongue on that side. His eyes evaluated her appearance. She felt self-conscious and lucky to know that her bottom half was shielded by his blanket.

"Are you one of my ex-girlfriends?" Duncan inquired; he sounded doubtful concerning his inquiry.

A twinkle of hope poked in her stomach, but she overlooked it. She wondered if he remembered. "Yes, I am," she replied coldly. "I'm sure you _remember me_. You should." _After what you did to me!_

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You're not, though. I don't remember you. I don't _know _you. I mean, if you were my ex-girlfriend, I _should _remember you, 'cause I kinda have to. But so far, I only had, like, one girlfriend this past year. The rest are flings … Were you one of my little flings?"

"Ex_cuse me_?" she scoffed, raising an eyebrow. Clearly, she was offended. _A fling? Really? _

"Well … if you know me and we might've had a little somethin'-somethin', then you're probably one of my flings. I don't remember _any _of my flings." He paused. "Maybe if you _helped _me remember, then sure, I'll remember. I think."

_A _fling_? A FLING? _"I most certainly _am not _your _fling_! What a moronic statement! I would never allow myself to be a two-hour make-out toy with _you_!" She glared at him once again.

He grimaced. "Ugh, you're right. I wouldn't swap spit with a screeching woman like _you_." He got off the doorway and stretched his arms. "You know, it's a pain in the ass to find out who you are and why the freaking hell you're here. And since we're going _nowhere_, you can just leave and do whatever. Become a hobo, I don't care. I've got business to take care of." He walked over to his drawers and took out some clothing.

Courtney, enraged, flung the blanket off of her and jumped off the bed.

Big mistake.

Abruptly, she fell to the floor, landing on her side, because a sudden pain in her head blasted her. She forgot about her headache. Fortunately the floor was carpet. But it still caused her pain on her body.

"What the — ?" she heard Duncan say. She heard loud footsteps coming her way. Through her half-lidded eyes, she saw him standing over her, wearing his shorts and his yellow sleeve-shirt. He stared at her, shocked. Then, after a while, he smirked.

"Well, don't just stand there, you idiot!" she admonished. "Help me up! Jeez, it doesn't have to take you that long! Ugh, I _swear _you have the mind of a — "

Out of nowhere, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up. She swayed a little, but Duncan's firm hold on her arm kept her standing upright, balanced. She breathed in deeply and relaxed her mind, trying to suppress the aching pain. She needed some painkillers, but her headache wasn't the problem right now.

She was about to lecture Duncan again when she perceived how close they were. Actually, they weren't _that _close enough to feel each other's breaths, but, after their messy breakup, this was the closest they had gone — despite the bridal challenge during the horrifying Total Drama days; that time was obligatory.

She pried her arm out of his grip quickly and took a couple of steps back. She stared at him icily. "Invasion of personal _space _much?" she snapped angrily.

He narrowed his teal eyes at her and snorted. "Tch, you're welcome, _Your Highness_," he retorted. He started walking back to his dresser.

The former C.I.T. growled lowly and gripped his arm, making him turn around quickly. He spun around, taken aback by the sudden action, and faced the angry girl. She gripped his arm tighter and gritted her teeth. She leaned closer to him. If her entire body was perforated, liquids of rage would be pouring out like a volcano.

She opened her mouth.

But he beat her.

"Woman! What the fucking hell is your _problem_? Huh?" he shouted, exasperated. "I don't even _know _you, and you're acting like I murdered your family or something! So quit getting up all in my goddamn space, you crazy hypocrite, and just _leave_ 'cause I don't know what the fuck's goin' on, too! Do ya get the _picture_?" He finished by snatching his arm back from her hand.

Duncan yelled at Courtney before. He was usually the slightly calmer person in their relationship, and so she did all the yelling. But as their relationship was on the edge of the cliff precariously, he too started yelling back, saying hurtful words at her that she didn't dare show stabbed her heart. To try to hide the vulnerability, she made herself angrier and angrier, doing extreme actions and saying hurtful words back. She threw away her self-control and her common sense.

What was far diverse from that situation to the current one was his _tone_. Since he didn't know her, his tone was different. It was as if he was talking to some stranger, or, in his case, a psycho he just saw in his bed after he showered. She wasn't used to not being _known _by this boy she had been together with for a long time, this boy that she had poured her entire heart to, gave him her entire body to. She wasn't.

Courtney stared at him long and hard, trying to find the solution. But it was useless. She was an intelligent person, far intelligent than a regular seventeen-year-old, but even with her intelligence, she couldn't find the answer to this mind-boggling problem.

She let out a breath. "So … so you really don't know me?" she questioned quietly. She had to _try _to be calm.

He rolled his eyes at her. He looked like he was about to rip off his piercings right about now. "No _shit_," he answered scornfully.

She wasn't acclimated to his extreme vulgarity, but she guessed he might be cussing a lot because he was confused and distressed by all this.

"What day is it?"

He rubbed the nape of his neck. "It's a Wednesday, the 5th of April."

Courtney gasped, horrified. _It's a _school day_! Why? Why, out of all weekends and holidays, does it have to be on a _weekday_? _"I — I have to get to school! Oh, my gosh, I have an exam for AP Lit.! Crap, crap, crap, _crap_!" She bit her thumb's nail and started muttering to herself.

The delinquent rolled his eyes again, not seeming to care about her "problem." He walked to her. "Hey, calm down, calm down. Where do you live?"

She was about to answer when she remembered something. _Duncan lives in Montreal, and I live in Beauport … Damn it, that's more than a hundred miles away! But how the _hell _did I get here? In Duncan's _room_? HOW?  
_

Duncan waited, yawned, and then looked at his alarm clock. "Well, I have to get goin', or else my parents will freak their thongs off." He went over to his dresser and got out his signature skull T-shirt. He pulled his over his head and tugged it down over his torso. He grabbed some long socks out.

"What do I do, then?" Courtney asked as he put his wristband on.

He grabbed his wallet from his desk and shrugged. "I dunno," he muttered. "I'd rather you leave my room, but since there's quite a few questions unanswered and I know you're the type to be bent on stuff, you can just hang in here for a while." He gave her a stern glare. "Don't touch any of my stuff — I've got important things that I don't need your uptight hands touchin'."

She returned the glare, scoffing. "Like I'd touch _anything _here. Ugh, this place reeks of bacteria and stupidity. Goodness gracious, do you even _own _a washing machine? Hangers? A tiny piece of knowledge regarding _cleanliness_?" Her eyes darted around the room, nose scrunching up with distaste.

He stared. Then he smirked. "You're pretty harsh, you know that?"

She merely scowled at him.

When he left, the mocha-haired girl sighed to herself. She sat down on his bed, wincing as she heard it squeak and groan. It was a good thing it was comfortable. She looked around the room again, just grimacing. This place really was Duncan's.

She frowned. The number question popped into her mind: _What in the world is going on?_

The alarm clock started beeping loudly in a distorted fashion. She assumed Duncan must've abused this clock multiples of times. She groaned to herself and smacked the snooze button hard, abusing it some more. She looked at the time.

_8:46 A.M. – April 5, 2008_

Courtney grinned to herself smugly. _Ha! He's late for school._

The grin slipped off of her face, traces of smugness now replaced with horror. She looked at the date again.

_April 5, 2008._

_2008._

_2008._

_2008._

She frantically searched her pockets for her PDA and thanked the heavens when she found it. She took it out, bewildered on why it was all ginormous and outdated-looking as opposed to her new sleek one she bought just recently, and checked the date. Duncan might have the date set wrong; he was that irresponsible.

A big bucket of calamity splashed her in the face.

_Date today: April 5, 2008._

**TBC –

* * *

**

**Blah: **

Yup, another new story. It seems confusing, but as the chapters go on, as the story goes on, you'll understand.

You will. You have to. Or else I'm doing all of this wrong.

But anyways, I hope that my inspiration for this story will go smoothly. Reasons for late updates, however, are due to school and yeah. School is my top priority. Gotta stay focus.

Questions? PM me.

Save an ant, people.


	2. scattered puzzle pieces

Courtney wasn't one to hyperventilate.

But the situation right now tempted her to do so.

Her onyx eyes stared wide and hard at the screen before her. The date repeated unceasingly in her mind, the image swirling around mockingly in an imagination-sense. She didn't move a single inch, a single muscle. She didn't breathe.

A tsunami of a question dramatically made its entrance through her head:

_WHAT THE HELL?_

It was the only sentence occupying her mind, along with a sea of confusion and nonsense. The situation seemed too surreal, too _inconceivable_, for any sane human being. The air of madness squeezed her brain, teased her sanity, suffocated her being, and just bothered her.

"It can't be 2008," she mumbled to herself. "It can't be, it can't be, it can't be … " She repeated it like an intonation. She held up her PDA and watched the screen light up, showing the date — that dreadful date: April 5, 2008.

_How could this have happened? It cannot be 2008_, she thought, panicky feelings bouncing around like gas particles.

She groaned to herself and took a couple of deep breaths. She refused — with all her might, she didn't want to submit to the total lunacy of the bizarre situation — to let this swallow her whole. She wouldn't be a victim to its diabolical agenda as if it were a living human. She wouldn't succumb to it, labeling herself as a slave with a weak resolve, or lack thereof. She was a strong-willed person with intelligence, and she would use those handy and pleasant qualities with sagacity. Freaking out wouldn't do her any good, and she was fortunate enough to _not _do that — even though she just about reached the brink.

She analyzed the PDA being held in her left palm. Now that she observed it more, she quickly recognized it as the PDA she had _before_, the 2008 version. She hadn't wanted to stick with her old PDA, because she had wanted one that was a fast processor, durable, and didn't infuriate her a lot. This antecedent of her current PDA had infuriated her plethora of times, and she couldn't _believe _that she was stuck with it _again_. Couldn't she have been stuck in this situation with her new and improved device?

The door started to rattle. Courtney became alert, and she was glad to know that her reaction time was perfect. It rattled some more, and she knew that it wasn't Duncan. Obviously if it was Duncan, the door would've slammed open rudely, suiting his personality, instead of rattling as if the person were unsure on how to open it, was having quite a bit of trouble opening it, or was attempting to scare her — all of those possibilities irked her since they were rather ridiculous. But she shouldn't dwell on the preposterousness of it all.

She looked around, searching frantically for a place to hide. She thought about hiding in the closet, but then she remembered Duncan was the antithesis of neatness and the closet might create an avalanche of useless junk, blowing her cover already. She settled hiding underneath the bed — which wasn't all that bad if you ignored the obscene magazines, dirty clothing, and random objects scattered about. Oh, and the ground was highly dusty, making Courtney's sinuses irritable. She rubbed her nose hard and kept still. Despite the messiness, it was spacious.

The door swung open gently. The former C.I.T. saw a tiny body tip-toeing to hold the doorknob. From her vision, she was wearing blue long socks and a black jumper-dress. Her long black hair was braided and stopped behind her thighs, swinging finely as she moved. The little girl got down from the tips of her toes and stood there silently.

The itchiness came back. Courtney cursed mentally and rubbed her nose again, praying to the heavens that she wouldn't create a loud noise. She couldn't risk getting caught, not after everything hadn't been solved.

"Duncan?" the girl questioned to the "empty" room, voice high-pitched and scratchy. "Where'd you go?"

Courtney acknowledged the little girl as Duncan's little sister Natasha. She wasn't supposed to be home now since she was most likely a first-grader, but since this was 2008, apparently, she was still about four-years-old. Courtney hadn't seen her in a while, only when she visited Duncan's family which was rarely.

"Duncan?"

"Oh, dear Lord!" a voice shouted from outside. "Oh! Dear, dear! Natasha baby! My dear, where are you?"

_Yvonne … _, Courtney thought, smiling slightly. She was Duncan's family's nanny, _official _nanny. She had taken care of Duncan and his older siblings when they were in their younger years. She was considered as a family member, and Duncan was quite fond of her. Courtney, too, was fond of Yvonne, because she was a great example of a role model and seemed to say things that always put a smile on your face. It was difficult to make Courtney like such people — or _any _person, for that matter — much less make her smile, but Yvonne was such an amiable and sparkling person the hard-to-please girl couldn't help but like her. Courtney also liked her because of the fact that she was filled with so much good intentions.

"My dear Natasha, where did you head off to _now_? You didn't even have your break — oh, _oh_! There you are!" Another pair of legs appeared, wearing white stockings and comfortable shoes. "Natasha, what are you doing in Duncan's room? You do know he doesn't like it when people enter his room without permission just like any other person. It's rude, especially since he's at school, a place _you_, my little bug, will be going off to soon. Now, come, come! You must eat. Your folks will throw a _fit_ if you don't eat the most important meal of the day! Tut, tut — your cereal is getting cold!" Two pairs of legs scurried out of the room hurriedly, though the smaller pair's speed was slow and reluctant.

Yvonne was also a loquacious and slightly dramatic person at times, but Courtney didn't mind. She never did. She always liked her animated personality whenever she visited.

Sighing in relief, Courtney crawled from underneath the bed. She let out a small sneeze, wiping her nose with her sleeve afterwards. Then, she wiped off the dirt on her clothes and in her hair with a grimace painted on her face. She headed inside the bathroom of Duncan's, prepared for what she was about to see.

Surprisingly, it was tidy. It was a small bathroom, so it was easier to manage. The curtains, rug, and the toilet seat cover looked like regular items as opposed to the "punk feel" in the other room.

She faced the medicine cabinet mirror and fixed up her appearance. The mirror looked crooked, so she tried to straighten it out. When she did, however, the cabinet opened up, the magnetic lock busted. Inside the cabinet were regular bathroom objects. There was a wrapper sticking out from behind a mini Listerine bottle, and she took it out.

Repulsion appeared on her face, and she flung the wrapper away, shrieking to herself.

_DISGUSTING! I can't _believe _— no, wait, I _should _believe since he's that vile, that — that _ugh_! Why would he keep a condom _in there_? He's only, what, sixteen now, right? That irresponsible ogre! Having sex whenever he pleases with whatever … _girl_. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl._ She shook her head.

She didn't like the idea of Duncan having sex without any moral feelings, without any rationality going on in his head. Now, she wasn't _religious_, but the sound of having sex _after_ marriage seemed like the right thing to do. Even if Duncan didn't think so and it was too late since he probably had sex already before she had met him, he shouldn't be doing … _that _with girls so carelessly!

To add onto that judgment, it wasn't like she was jealous of whomever girl he was pleasing. She wasn't. She felt sorry for the girl actually, because he was just using her for her body — if she had a good one, that is. But yes, Courtney was well-informed of Duncan's evil and cold-hearted ways of treating a girl, even learning it the hard, cruel way. She knew he was going to do the same to her. She was, in his words, a fling, that girl.

_The girl's probably a slut. No, no … She _is _a slut. I'm not a slut — I'm most likely the only smart girl Duncan's ever dated. But it's his bad luck that I'm no longer with him — not that I _want _to be, anyway. So the girl's a slut, just like that — that —_

She didn't think of the name. The name deserved to burn in hell.

She attempted to fix the cabinet. She closed it gingerly. She stood back up and grinned in satisfaction. But then the cabinet door swung open again. She groaned and closed it. It opened again. She inhaled and exhaled, closing it afterward. After about two seconds, it opened yet again. Muttering a string of profanities, she closed the cabinet door, even adding more pressure to it as she did so. It opened.

"Damn. It," she spat furiously, and slammed the door shut with as much force as possible. It quivered; she heard the contents shake inside as well and heard something fall. She wondered if it was going to collapse and then stopped wondering because she was afraid it was going to happen. She didn't want to jinx the situation. To her joy, the cabinet door stayed shut.

She turned around and headed out the bathroom, closing the door quietly. She sat down on his bed and collapsed on it. Grimacing, she quickly sat back up, not wanting to lie down on _Duncan's bed_. She blew a strand of hair off from her face.

If it _really_ was 2008, then Duncan was sixteen-years-old right now — she knew that. He didn't know anything concerning the horrible and life-scarring Total Drama days, and it also indicated that … he didn't know her.

Suddenly not minding, she collapsed yet again on his bed. It was still strange how Duncan didn't know her. She held a long-term grudge against him still even though it happened months ago (or years _later _in this case). She wouldn't forgive him. But since _this _Duncan in particular didn't hurt her (not yet, anyway), she didn't know what to think; she didn't know how to _react _towards him. She would treat him the same, of course, but she didn't think she could tell him everything that had happened.

_Duncan is Duncan, though_, she clarified internally. _He's the same person, so I should treat him like how I would if I ever saw him again._

Dark orbs disappeared slowly behind its lids.

* * *

_she watches him chase clouds with a grimace sketched upon her face

* * *

_

"Hey."

Courtney felt something shaking her. She ignored it. But then the shaking became continuous, so she had to open her eyes but only quite. She groaned and fell back into darkness.

"Hey! Girl, wake up!"

More shaking. It started to aggravate her. Her body and brain needed rest. She knew why her brain needed rest what with all the odd events and a rain of questions pouring down on her. She didn't know why her body was so _tired_, though. At times, it ached too, especially her head. It was a kind of throbbing pain that didn't leave once she wakes up.

"Huh. Since she's sleepin' like a baby, I guess I'll stick my hand inside her shirt and cop a feel."

Eyes snapping wide open, Courtney gasped and sat up. She tried to glower at him. The sudden rush added onto the aching pain, and she moaned, collapsing on the bed. She clutched her head in anguish. She opened one eye and saw Duncan standing next to the bed, towering over her.

"Damn, what'd you do while I was gone?" he inquired. She didn't answer him. "You want some pain-killers or somethin'? I think my ma bought some … "

Both eyes were open now, staring at him strangely. _Why was he being so nice?_

He gave her a weird look, as well. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"You're being … kind," Courtney replied slowly.

He got all defensive. "Hey, slow your roll there, honey. I'm not _kind_ or anything like that. I was just asking if you wanted some medicine for your headache. That's _all_."

"People only ask that if they're feeling concerned about someone, you know."

"That doesn't mean they're _nice_."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't."

"_Yes_, it does."

"_No_, it doesn't."

She stayed quiet, glaring. And then — "I am _not _having this childish argument with you. Since you're childish, have it with yourself."

The delinquent pretended to stumble backwards, feigning hurt. "That hurt me, babe. That really hurt me."

She rolled her eyes and almost smiled. But she didn't. Just as her lips were about to form that happy expression, she stopped. She restrained herself from doing so. She was supposed to be angry with him. She was determined to hold this grudge that was filled with ounces and ounces of hatred, fury, and confusion. She didn't want to elaborate on her confusion.

_Duncan is Duncan_, she thought.

Courtney sat up from the bed, ignoring the squeaks and groans. She fixed up her hair just in case she had bed hair and straightened out her wrinkled clothing. She pushed the blanket off of her. She swung her legs over, scooted to the edge, and sat there. She looked at Duncan who was stretching his arms, yawning loudly.

"Did you just come back from school?" she asked. She took out her PDA, hearing a low whistle coming from the obnoxious teen in front of her, and checked the time. It was 12:18 P.M. "Wait … doesn't school end around three o' clock?"

He looked at her as if it was evident. "I skipped," he answered back casually.

She gave him a disappointed look. "How could you do that? You're wasting precious school time! You'll miss a lot of — ," she scolded.

"Yeesh, woman, _chill_." He placed his hands behind the back of his head. "I got bored. My last teacher kept giving us homework and crap. Too much for me."

"You'll get reported!"

"'You'll get reported!'" He mimicked her voice, sounding like a baby trying to speak. "Like I give a shit. The teachers are just wasting their time. They don't need me. Anyway, I've got important stuff to do that _doesn't _deal with the words 'school' and 'work.'"

"Oh, just what other 'stuff' are you _soooo _occupied with?" Courtney asked with a mocking tone. He was so irresponsible.

"Fun," he stated simply. "Pure, ass-rockin' fun. It's what we need. Hell, it's what _you _need."

She scoffed. She didn't need fun, because _his _definition of "fun" was far diverse than _her _definition of fun, which was making lists, studying, playing the violin, reading, doing homework or anything that involved _doing _work, community service, extracurricular activities, learning, planning, organizing, and so on and so forth.

"I have _plenty _of fun!" the former C.I.T cried in indignation.

"Being boring doesn't count as fun, sweetheart." He smirked, eyes dancing with amusement and mischief. She growled.

"Would you _quit it _with the pet names? It's annoying!"

Déjà vu was what she was feeling currently. As she bickered with Duncan, that specific feeling hit her like a train coming unexpectedly. Images and scenes during Total Drama Island swirled around her head, coming at her like a fast flipbook. All of them were centered on her and Duncan: their first words toward each other, arguments, smiles, hugs … and kisses.

She suddenly felt another ache — but it wasn't from her head.

Duncan, completely ignorant to her rapid change of expressions, grabbed the computer chair, brushed away the boxers, and sat down on it backwards. He rested his arms on the back of it.

"I have questions, you have questions," he proclaimed, sounding worn-out and reluctant. But Courtney knew he wanted to know what was going on too.

"_I'm _going first." And so he wouldn't protest, she cleared her throat and began: "How did I get here?"

"Sweetie, that's one of _my _questions. Get your own."

"Shut it! Okay … is it really 2008?"

"What do ya think? 'Course it is!"

She frowned at him. "Liar. You're lying." It was futile saying that, because it _was _2008. She had to make sure, though. She had to make sure she wasn't inside some parallel universe — one you could call "insanity."

He sat up from his slouching position and stared at her in disbelief. "Wooow. Why would I lie about the freaking _date_?"

She felt like an idiot for asking that question now. She wondered if that precise situation was hers to solve in solitude. "So you've never heard about Total Drama Island?"

He shook his head. "What's that, though?"

"It's nothing." _You'll find out soon_, she added internally, sympathy directed to him appearing. She shouldn't be feeling sympathy, either; she would experience it — or she _already _did, but then … well, it was very perplexing.

He yawned and stretched his arms, grunting. He finished yawning and resumed his earlier position. "You done?" he questioned.

"Of course not!" A question popped inside her mind. She knew the answer, but she couldn't help but think it over and over again despite her knowing. It was one of the questions that needed an answer that _she _would like, not the other way around. "You're … you're positive that you don't know me … right?"

The Mohawk-wearing teen sighed in frustration. "Damn straight. Jeez, how many times will you ask the same questions? The answers aren't gonna change. I'm not lying. I'm pretty sure you and I both know _lying _isn't gonna make the situation better. So, why don't you start askin' some questions that I _haven't answered yet_? Peachy?"

She was about to retaliate, but he had a good point. She admitted it, with difficulty, that she was being slightly unreasonable and panicky. She couldn't help herself considering the bizarreness of all of this.

"I'm done," Courtney muttered. _There may be more or there _will _be more, but, for now, I'll just stop there._

Duncan exhaled in relief and grinned. "Finally." He hesitated as if he was trying to be dramatic. "Who're you?"

_Goodness, that's like his favorite question. _"You know me."

"Would you stop saying that? I don't know you — that's why I'm freakin' asking who the hell you are. Okay, sorry if you're one of my little flings — "

"Which I am _not_!"

He held up his hands. "All right, then! You're not. But seriously, babe, I don't know you. You're maybe mistaking me for some other dude, so yeah. But you _do _know me, and you know my name … " He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Huh. Oh yeah, you said you were one of my exes, right?"

She nodded, a bit reluctant.

"And I don't — " He broke off, groaning. "M'kay, this is gonna sound pretty crazy and nerdy, but I have to say it: are you from the future or somethin'?"

_Time travel_, Courtney thought, testing out the words. _It sounds logical in a sense, but … no, something's off about it. Yes, it may be the answer, but it doesn't seem accurate enough._ "Yes," she replied carefully, "I'm from the future. But if you're thinking that I traveled through time, please disregard that. I didn't."

"I'm just sayin'."

She raised an eyebrow. "And just what are you saying?"

"One: you think I'm lying that it's 2008. And two: you sound as if you know me, but I don't; and that says you might be one of my future exes." He shrugged. "Seems a bit reasonable if you ask me."

"Time-traveling is a fictional term. Yes, it could be proven, but it doesn't seem like the answer to all of this." She waved her hand around the room, emphasizing her statement. "I feel like … there's another answer."

"Which brings us back to square one." He sighed, exasperated. "Look, you have to consider — "

"DUNCAN!" The deafening noise reverberated from downstairs, twisted with seething rage and fatigue.

The aforementioned troublemaker scowled. He turned to glare at the door. Courtney could hear him mumbling profanities that made her slightly uncomfortable due to the fact they were indeed extreme.

"DUNCAN! I _KNOW _YOU'RE UP IN YOUR ROOM! GET YOUR INSUBORDINATE SELF DOWN HERE, DAMMIT!"

Courtney immediately recognized the loud voice as Duncan's dad. Although she hadn't heard him roar like that, she remembered his voice being, to some extent, nasally and firm — a voice you shouldn't taunt or underestimate despite its nasally quality. It was hard to tell since he was yelling, but her ears could identify such a tone.

Duncan grinned, looking as if he was enjoying his dad's yells. Traces of anger vanished quickly, no evidence left of it. "Hey, old man! If you know I'm up here, why the hell won't _you _come here?" he yelled back, tone lower, with a teasing tone.

She gasped. She knew he was disrespectful towards his dad, but she could tell that his dad was beyond serious what with his loud yells. He shouldn't act so immaturely defiant.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?"

"Oh, you heard me loud and clear, baldy!"

"B-_BALDY?_" Duncan's dad stayed silent for a moment. "YOUNG MAN, I WILL NOT BE TRIFLED WITH! YOU KNOW FULLY WELL WHAT YOU DID! SO GET DOWN HERE _RIGHT THIS INSTANT_!"

"Would you like some fries with that, sir?"

Not wanting to create a catastrophe — though _that _could be an understatement — Courtney slapped Duncan's arm, interrupting his laughter. He stopped and glared at her.

"What the hell was that for?" he snapped.

"You shouldn't irk your dad even more, Duncan! He's almost reaching his breaking point, and you never know he might give you the _worst possible _punishment ever!"

He smirked. "Aw, you care about me?"

Menacingly, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Now's not the freakin' time! Stop being so _stupid _and go downstairs to your dad! Take. It. Like. A. Man!" She slapped him again and pointed to the door. "Go! Now!"

He gave her a stare. He sighed again, lazily getting off the computer chair. As he walked to the door, she could hear him mumbling, "Pushy chick. She needs a daily dose of chill pills, I swear."

Scoffing, she replied, "I heard that!"

Right after he shut the door rudely, Courtney fell back down on the bed, a deep breath escaping from her mouth. Swirls and swirls of bewilderment filled her to the core, poking at her irritatingly. The aching pain from her head turned numb, but she knew it'll come back — she had a little notion about that.

Her slender fingers began to stroke the gentle feel of the blanket, focusing on it.

She realized something.

She didn't have a blanket on before she took her little nap.

_

* * *

she wears her heart under the soles of her shoes.

* * *

_

Light blue-green eyes and dark gray orbs both stood staring at the comfortable bed before them. Quietness took up the air with the exception of their balanced breathing and muffled clamor outside.

"I'm on the bed," Duncan announced. "It's mine, anyways."

"Then where do _I _sleep? On the ground?" she asked sarcastically. _He wouldn't — _

"Yeah, on the ground. Where else?"

Stunned and wide-eyed at the green-haired teen, she glowered. "The _bed_, of course! I am _not _sleeping on the floor! Bacteria, dirt, and all varieties of _Duncan _are concealed inside the carpet! No!"

He growled. "Either you take the floor or sleep outside. I don't give a rat's ass, honey. I'm ready to catch some major Z's. So take your pick: floor, outside?"

She remained adamant. "Bed."

"With me? Well, all right … Kinda rushin' in our relationship, aren't ya?" He gave her a teasing grin, a glint of flirtatiousness in his eyes.

Courtney blushed brightly, cursing herself for doing so. "Sh-Shut up!" She sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Do you at least have a futon?"

"No."

"A comforter?"

He pursed his lips. "Uhhh … yeah." He trudged over to his closet and took out a green comforter. "It's clean, I guess."

Suspicion flared inside her. "You _guess_?"

"Freakin' hell, just take the damn thing already! Jeez, I'm as tired as hell and you are, too." He shoved the comforter in her arms and jumped on the bed.

Screaming insults at him mentally, she laid the comforter on the ground, smoothing it out. She grabbed a pillow from him and fluffed it. She dropped it on the ground, as well. She walked over to the light switch and shut it off. She groped around the darkness with her feet and found her makeshift bed. She lied down on it, uncomfortable, and situated herself properly. She tossed and turned until she found a somewhat reasonable position.

She shut her eyes. All she saw was darkness.

"Hey, you."

Groaning in aggravation, Courtney replied back, _"What?"_

"I didn't catch your name."

She was just about to say her name when she stopped. She didn't know if she was supposed to say her name or not. She wasn't sure if this situation would last long, and this _might _— "might" being the ultimate keyword — be some different place and time. She didn't know what to make of everything that was happening. But her name didn't seem like a problem; it was just a name.

"It's Courtney."

"Courtney, huh?"

As he spoke her name slowly, testing it out, she felt something deep inside try to fly but fell back down.

**TBC –

* * *

**

**Blah:**

Confusion, confusion … and more confusion.

Just read on, guys; the confusion will alleviate slowly as you do. :)

Oh, I'm also thinking about changing my pen-name. I've had it ever since my _Naruto _phase — which was during my prior Fanfiction days, years back — and I want to change it. It's a hassle, though …

I'll think about it.

12 days left 'til Christmas (in my place). ❤;


	3. the difference

Dr. Ramirez entered the room along with Nurse Cindy, who went ahead of him to check up on the monitors. He saw Samantha holding her daughter's hand still, watching her with a broken expression; touches of exhaustion was apparent on her aging face, though she looked wide awake. He knew she was trying to be strong.

A crease appeared between the doctor's eyebrows as it furrowed down gradually. Samantha didn't move from the same position when he had entered the room a half hour prior. It was worrying.

He sighed, feeling concerned. He walked over to the woman and placed a hand on her tense shoulder. He felt her flinch slightly from the sudden physical contact. He moved his hand away.

"Mrs. Simmons, would you like some water?" Dr. Ramirez asked gently. "You've been here for about two hours, and you haven't moved a single inch from your position. You should rest, too."

Samantha didn't regard him, but she answered, "I'm perfectly fine, Dr. Ramirez." Her tone was so stoically quiet that the doctor had to bend down to her level just to catch what she said; the tone sent chills down his spine, lingering there for quite a while before disappearing. "Just go do what you have to do and leave us be."

He was inflexible, though. What she was doing was … absolutely nothing — he didn't favor that at all. Yes, he was sympathetic towards her situation, but he didn't like the fact that all she did was stare at her daughter as if she would suddenly awaken. She had to have a positive outlook. She had to do _something_.

"It would be best if you interacted with her," he advised, inspecting his patient's IV bag. "Talk to her as if she were awake. Talk about what you did, how your day or work was, and everything and anything. But speak to her with positive words and positive feeling. Ignore the fact that she's comatose" — he saw her wince at the word — "and just talk. Your daughter needs to know that you're_ there_. All she sees right now is darkness; all she feels is utter solitude. She needs her mother's presence; she needs _you_."

Boiling hot and fast, the irritation mixed with punishing enervation, Samantha's eyes rushed towards him, glinted with blinding steel. They narrowed down, making Dr. Ramirez quite — only _quite_ — intimidated by the woman. He kept his mouth shut.

"I don't need anyone telling me what to do concerning my daughter's condition — even if you're a doctor," she sneered, lips curling upwards a bit. She's _my_ daughter; she's _your_ patient. See the obvious difference? Do you see the difference in importance between the two? Your concern is her safety, I get that, but how _I_ take care of my child is none of your business. Continue what sort of daily checkups you're doing and leave immediately afterwards."

The doctor was about to reply with anger, but he stopped. He tried to remain professional and calm for her sake and his.

Why did she always have to treat him with such disparagement, though? He knew what he was talking about. Talking to comatose patients was good, because it helped them. Studies showed that it also helped those in comatose wake up. They would know they weren't alone, because if they felt they were alone, they would sink in deeper into the darkness and never come back … never wake up.

Nurse Cindy, discreetly eavesdropping, couldn't help but want to lash out at the mother of Dr. Ramirez's patient. He was just being cooperative, and here she was, speaking to him with a condescending tone. She shook her head and walked to the doctor, informing him that she was done. She took one last glance at the drained mother and left, repressing the amount of anger she felt.

Dr. Ramirez sighed. He rubbed his temples, muttering to himself about how he had to work on the other patients instead of focusing on this particular one. He left as well, not even saying a simple goodbye to Samantha like he usually did.

As soon as the door shut, Samantha smiled at her daughter and stroked her hair with the touch of a feather. For a moment, the exhaustion written boldly on her face faded away even the irritation. She looked at peace for once.

"Sorry for his unexpected intrusion, sweetie," she whispered. "That Dr. Ramirez irritates me, I swear to you. Telling me what to do, giving me advice I already know — hmph! He's despicable! But none of that hateful talking, I'll continue after what I left off. Now, where was I … ?" She pondered for a bit, still stroking her hair. "Oh! Yes, yes — I was telling you my first accomplishment, right? Well, I was in the sixth grade, and … "

The room had soft whispers floating around of reminisce and triumph, a hidden sadness locked away for now.

* * *

_take off the covers, show the masterpiece

* * *

_

"I'd rather jump off Mount Everest and drown in the Dead Sea."

"Being a little overdramatic right there."

"Duncan … ," Courtney started out calmly, "I will not nor will I ever be your DAMN LITTLE SLAVE!"

Duncan grinned smugly. "You should've known me keeping quiet about you staying here and not telling my folks had to come with _some_ price," he stated. She could see spots of superiority in his teal eyes, making her even angrier. How dare he act as if _he_ was above _her_?

"I have a sense of _pride_! I will not let myself become your little slave. If I even do agree to this — this downright _insane_ — "

"Which you will," he inserted, still grinning.

Glaring ferociously, she continued, " — proposal, this will ruin me. This will ruin my reputation, my integrity! I am not going to tend to your every whim. I am not going to degrade myself for you. So, shove that God-awful suggestion up your freakin' _nose _and _forget it_!" She finished with a huff, turning her face away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose up in the air, like a little girl refusing to eat her vegetables.

The delinquent looked amused by her reply. The pierced eyebrow was raised up. He leaned back against the door of his bathroom nonchalantly and chuckled a bit.

"Well, sucks for you, doll-face," he began, a smirk on, "'cause if you _don't_ do what I say when I say, then I'll toss you out in the streets."

Her eyes widened. Her defiant posture slackened. She faced him with a look of incredulity. "You — you wouldn't!"

That irritating smirk seemed to glow. "Oh, I _would_." His tone was jeering; it irritated her.

"_You_ throw _me_ out to the _streets_? You can't! That's just wrong! That's just — that's just wrong! That's cruel! That's … _inhumane_!" She stood up from the edge of the bed and walked towards him, resisting the urge to strangle the hell out of him. "You are a sick, sick, _sick_ idiot! I am a girl — no! I am a woman! I have a future! I am going to pass my LSATs with a high score! I am going to law school! I will become a prestigious lawyer, throwing guilty criminals like _you_ off to prison!" She was all up in his face. The entertained expression and smirk to top it off was motivating her to go on and on until she burst — which was impossible. She poked his chest hard.

The famous statement she hadn't said in a while walked out of her mouth with dignity:

"I was a _C.I.T_, goddammit!"

Silence. It was all that went through her ears. She could hear her heavy breathing and the loud beating of her heart from the unexpected blast of energy in her. Eyes with so much willpower and passion shot straight through his like a laser.

After quite some time, she slowly began to feel uncomfortable underneath his apathetic yet unreadable stare. She glanced away, but then she continued staring back. The silence became overbearing. She wanted him to say something or at least _do something_. That stare of his was affecting her, and she didn't like it. She also noticed the proximity between them, chests just about touching.

Duncan grinned. A laugh escaped his lips. A loud one. He bent forward, startling Courtney. She stepped back a little and watched him laugh, confused. He stood upright, wiping tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He saw her and continued his laughing fit, clutching his stomach.

Gradually, Courtney started to scowl. He was making fun of her declaration earlier. She thought that he would at least come to terms with her and try to think of a better solution. But he laughed. He laughed at her speech which was a _wonderful_ speech she had to think. He laughed at _her_.

She was foolish to think that Duncan could actually be reasonable — something he never was during their dating days. But she assumed 2008 Duncan would be slightly different. Sure, he was more immature and reckless, but she thought he would be … convincing. Strangely, he wasn't all that cautious and frightening (as if Courtney could think he was frightening) when they had met. In a way, he was different than the present Duncan. But still, she shouldn't have thought that he would be reasonable.

Thinking now, she only knew the Duncan in Total Drama, not the younger version. She wondered if he was much dissimilar.

Before Courtney was going to yell at him, he finished his laughing fit. He looked at her with a smirk, looking like he just got even more amused by all of this — or her.

"You're still gonna be my slave."

_He's the epitome of evil_, Courtney thought. She pictured, with the utmost sadism, herself wringing his neck until he turned a precarious blue. She threw the thoughts away, though — he always, _always_ brought out her scary side. Her volatile side.

Duncan went over to his desk where his bag was dumped on and took out a black binder. He bent down and ducked underneath the desk. He stood up, holding two thick textbooks: Biology and English 10. He threw the books on the bed, making the bed do its squeaking and groaning. He also threw the binder on the bed.

"And there you go — your first command," he told her. "Do my homework."

She snorted. "Homework is easy! You don't need me to do it!" She then remembered his lack of knowledge in academics. "I am not doing your homework."

"You're smart, aren't you?"

"Well, of course I am, but that doesn't mean — "

"_Exactly._ So you won't have a hard time on it and you'll finish faster."

Groaning, Courtney stomped over to him, fists clenched on both sides. She eyed the textbooks with distaste and how unfamiliar they looked to her. In her sophomore year, she remembered having many AP classes, so seeing these "normal" textbooks was kind of strange for her. She was accustomed with seeing advanced books.

"You clearly don't see my point," she sighed, picking up a Biology book and skimming through the pages. "Homework is meant for you to do, not me. Otherwise — " she closed the book, placing it back on the bed " — it'd be classified as cheating. And I don't cheat."

Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I cheat," he said unconcernedly.

_In more ways than one_, she thought bitterly, narrowing her dark eyes at him. She swallowed down the lethal fire ready to explode out of her mouth hard. She shouldn't scream at him about that, because he hadn't done it. Yet. _Yet_, being the keyword. He would do it soon.

"Duncan, cheating is wrong." She talked to him as if he was a fourth grader. "It's very wrong. What'll you gain from it?"

He grinned cheekily. "An easy grade."

The pseudo-calmness disappeared. She threw her hands up in the air in a theatrical fashion. Her fingers were stiff, trembling, as if they were waiting to find an opportunity to beat someone, kill someone.

Like now.

Like _him_.

"You're not going to learn anything!" Courtney cried out. She hoped she would plant a bit of rationality in his brain — if he had one, though she supposed he did since he was breathing properly.

He shrugged, indifferent. "Don't care."

_What the hell is _with him_? Ugh, he's so irresponsible and insensitive! He doesn't care one bit about his future! What is he going to do in life — as he grows up? He's taking the wrong path in life! He's an IDIOT!_ she screamed internally.

She watched him plop on the bed, lazily looking through the pages of his English 10 textbook. She bit her lower lip slightly.

_Why am I so surprised, though? While I dated Duncan, he acted the same. I scolded him about it until he broke and snapped at me, saying that it shouldn't be my problem. And … so that goes to show this sixteen-year-old Duncan is no different than the one I grew to know. This Duncan is so much more careless and uninterested towards everything! The Duncan I know wasn't like that … He did his homework and joked from time to time for me to do it for him. He told me he "kind of" wanted to be a Marine, but he wasn't sure. He was more … more responsible towards what he wants in life._

Courtney's legs started to ache, and she wished to go and sit down on the bed. She held the pain in, though, because she refused to sit next to him … on the _same bed_. Instead she walked forward a little.

"How about this? I'll help you with your homework," she recommended. "I am an adequate tutor, you know. I tutored many, many — "

He cut her off, holding up a hand to stop her. "Uh, yeah, yeah. How about you just do my homework?"

She glowered. "How about I don't?"

He chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. "Damn, you're pretty bent on living the streets."

She gulped audibly. She didn't want to live on the streets. "Were you being serious about that?"

For a moment, he was quiet. He looked down and at his textbook, playing with the pages and looking as if he was quite interested in the contents.

"I'm not just going to let you stay here for free," he finally said, having a firm tone. He directed his eyes to her now. "I need something in return."

"Why can't it be something else, then?" Courtney complained. "I don't want to be ordered around by you. Anything else, really!" And just for the heck of it, she added, with reluctance, "Please."

At that, he raised an eyebrow. His eyes shot right through her eyes, and it looked like he was searching for any treachery or dishonesty in her eyes. But Courtney wasn't someone who deceived anyone. She always kept her promises, because she was a big believer in them. Once she said something, she would do it.

So she held his gaze without effort. She would show that she wasn't lying. If she was going to be a politician — it was one of her ambitions, though she was leaning towards law, of course — she had to remain true to her word no matter what. It was one of her beliefs, and she could gain trust from the others if she did so. She knew it would work on the Neanderthal before her.

"Anything, eh?" Duncan grinned mischievously, eyes appraising her from head to toe. He gazed longer at particular body parts, making Courtney revolted and uncomfortable. She had an itch to cross her arms over her chest or grab the blanket and wrap it around herself.

"Nothing perverted!" she snapped. "I swear to God if you say something — "

"You do know I'm being sort of cool with you."

_"Cool"?_ "What do you mean?"

He closed the book and tossed it to the side. "I _mean_, that any other person would've thrown you out in the streets the minute they saw you. Did I throw you out in the streets?" he inquired with wide eyes. His tone was exaggeratingly innocent.

She rubbed her arm, feeling a bit guilty. "Um … no, you didn't."

"See? So you're lucky I'm not that messed up, all right? And anyways … " He trailed off, an enticing light in his eyes coming out. "I'll be straight with ya, babe — you're damn hot, in a clean, goody-goody way." His tone was blunt but entwined with flattery and honesty.

_Oh, dear Lord, please don't make me blush. Don't blush!_ But the familiar warmth arose beneath her cheeks, spreading throughout her mocha face. She scowled and covered her face with her hand.

Duncan laughed boisterously. "Ha! No — no way! Don't tell me … are you _blushing_? Is little Miss C.I.T. blushing? _Awww_, how adorable!" He clasped his hands together, swinging them around teasingly with pursed lips like a girl.

She glared but turned away, cursing at him mentally. "I am not! Shut up!" she protested, failing. The warmness didn't go away yet. _Ugh, crap!_

From her peripheral vision, she saw him get off his bed and started towards her. Smirking, he was in front of her and bent down, trying to get a clearer view of her red face.

"Then why're you covering your face?" he whispered. Oh, she wanted to rip that smirk right off his face.

"Whatever, Duncan! Maybe I just … wanted to smell my hand!" _Nice, Courtney — what a wonderful lie._

He leaned closer.

She stared at him warily. "Just _what_ are you doing?"

Again, he leaned in. Courtney could now feel his hot breath on her hand.

Her eyes widened once she realized what he was going to do. _Kiss … me? Is he going to kiss me? No! No! No, no, no, no, NO! He cannot place those ghastly lips on mine! Ew, God no!_

But she didn't move back.

She felt an electrifying blast when she felt his lips touch her hands lightly. He grabbed her hand and started pulling it down. Eyes almost popping out of their sockets and hurting a bit, she fought back and placed her hand on top of his, holding it firmly.

He chuckled. Her hand embraced the hot breath willingly.

_Ew! It's ew! Revolting! Disgusting! Apalling!_

Now he gripped the hand he was holding and strongly pulled it down. She yelped a bit when she almost clocked her forehead with hers from the force. She forgot that he was still stronger than her, unfortunately.

Noses touching.

Breaths fanning each other's faces.

Eyes staring at eyes.

Lips just about touching.

Courtney's dark eyes would glance at his lips from time to time. Every time she did, though, she would immediately look back. But what was confusing was why she wouldn't back away. He wasn't holding her against her will, so … why?

He winked. He stood up and walked outside, yelling out, "Gonna grab a bite!"

The door closed.

A volcano erupted inside of her. Searing lava built up inside her and spilled out. Need to break something, kill something, hurt something, beat up something, yell at something, punch something, kick something, tear apart something — that something would be Duncan.

She gritted her teeth, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were popping out. Fists shook dangerously. If someone touched it ever so lightly, they would face its wrath and wouldn't live to see the day.

She wished she could scream until her lungs burst until everything around her was obliterated. But she couldn't. She didn't want to get caught. Yvonne and Natasha were still out there, somewhere.

But she couldn't deny that feeling she got when she was so, so near his face. The feeling made her feel all excited and impulsive. She waited for him to make the first move so she could attack him and have her way. She couldn't control her sexual thoughts, because they escaped the wall between and ran around, forcing her to act and to take control — just the way she liked it. She couldn't deny the fact that she loved being that close to him.

"No," she breathed. "I can't feel this way."

Suddenly feeling woozy, she sat down on the bed and took deep, slow breaths. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping to come back to the real world, hoping that all of this was just a dream, hoping that she would be back in her room crammed with tons and tons of work and responsibilities.

She opened her eyes.

She was stuck here.

**TBC –

* * *

**

**Notes:**

Changed my pen-name — finally!

And I know it's going on slow, but hopefully the next chapter will have some excitement to it. I'm not sure.

But updates won't come quick, of course. I'm trying to spend my break with ease.

_Merry Christmas_, everyone. ❤

And to those who don't celebrate this holiday, have a great December 25th.


	4. opening the eyes

Every time Duncan went to school, Courtney always wondered what she should do. She knew she could watch some TV, but she wasn't someone who watched TV regularly. She wouldn't know a majority of the shows. If she ever had free time — finished with homework, projects, activities, et cetera — she would read a novel or organize her daily agenda. She didn't like not doing anything; her body always tingled with a desire to do something.

She spotted the console near the TV and grimaced. She wasn't fond of videogames, either. They were useless contraptions and killed brain cells. What was the point of _inventing _them, anyway?

She sighed and sat down on the computer chair, twisting around it side by side. She took out her PDA from her pocket and watched the screen light up, making her tanned face have a bluish glow.

She had an epiphany.

_If _I'm _here, then … what's going on back home? _Courtney wondered. _What's my mom doing? Does she know I'm gone? Or am I already there … ?_

She groaned, feeling so helpless. She couldn't find an explanation no matter what. All these happenings were beyond strange — what could she do about them?

_Clank._

Her ears perked up to the sound. She looked over to the window and saw nothing but the bright sunlight shining in. She grumbled to herself about being delusional.

_Clank._

She stood up from the chair, which rolled all the way to edge of the bed, hitting it. She gripped her PDA strongly. Taking a few steps towards the window, she suddenly felt unsure.

_Whoever's throwing objects at the window must be a friend of Duncan's. I can't let anyone know I'm in here, but … _

She shoved the PDA down deep inside her pocket.

_Clank, clank. _

Two rocks hit the window, one after the other. _Clank_. And then another one. _Clank, clank, clank. _Three more came with fast speed. Some rocks were bigger than others, and Courtney was afraid one of them might shatter the window glass. _Clank, clank, clank. _More and more and more and more.

_What _idiot _is doing this?_

Courtney grasped the window pane and pulled it upwards. She felt a whoosh of the fresh wind hit her face pleasantly. Her hair blew back. She didn't know that the breeze outside was strong yet very inviting. She looked down and searched for the culprit, ready to yell at them.

Something blue came her way fast without her noticing.

Suddenly, a sharp pain kindled on her nose, scattering throughout her face like wildfire. Hissing in pain, she held her nose. She clenched her teeth, holding in the pain and desperately trying not to cry out. The pain throbbed from her nose. She felt warm liquid trickle down her nostril and inside her mouth. Droplets of it went in her mouth, going on her tongue.

Blood.

"Damn!" the mocha-haired teen swore. Still holding her pained nose, she looked back outside the window and saw him.

Green Mohawk. Shiny piercings. Teal eyes. Dog collar. Unattractive clothing. Oh, and the smirk.

Yup.

Duncan.

"Hey, Courtney!" the aforementioned suspect shouted. "You all right there? Did I hit you? Aw, _shit_! I hit ya, didn't I?" His unibrow was wrinkled down, a guilty expression on. But Courtney could see from his lips that he was desperately trying not to laugh at her expense.

"No!" Courtney answered back, having a casual tone. "Oh, _no_! Of course not! You didn't hit me, Duncan! I'm just clutching my nose in great pain, because apparently a soda can hit me straight in the nose! There's blood pouring down, and it tastes horrible! So yeah, none of this was — WHAT DO YOU THINK, YOU STUPID OGRE?" Her tone grew increasingly loud, voice echoing to the streets. She didn't notice.

He rubbed the nape of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "Er, sorry 'bout that, babe! I didn't know you opened the window. And I ran outta rocks to throw!"

"So you just_ had to use A SODA CAN?_" It almost looked like a nerve was ready to burst out of her skin on the side of her temple.

He held up his hands, moving it up and down. "'Kay, just chillax there, honey! We're gonna go someplace, so jump!" He then held his arms out and got into position, bent knees and alert eyes.

Onyx eyes widened. "You're crazy! I'm not jumping! Where are you going to take me? And wherever it is, I'm not _going_! I'm not jumping! _Hello _— I don't want to DIE!" She whimpered slightly when the pain worsened and held her nose gentler.

He rolled his eyes, still in place. "I'll catch you, don't worry! Jump! And I'll treat your boo-boo!" He smirked. "C'mon, don't be a scaredy-cat, babe!"

She growled. "Stop mocking me! 'Boo-boo'? 'Scaredy-cat'? Ugh, you're such an elementary brat! I'm not scared! You won't catch me!"

"Have a little faith! Get your sexy ass down here!"

"Flattery won't work! I said NO!"

"Aw, come on, girlie — just jump!" a guy leaning out a window of his apartment across the street shouted out, grinning.

Courtney gave him a look of repulsion. "Who the hell are you? And stop taking his side!" she screamed. _Ugh, my throat hurts._

The window below the guy who yelled earlier opened and out came a girl with pigtails. She cupped her hands on either side of her mouth and yelled, too: "Jump, girl, jump! Can't you see how desperate he's being? It's so _kee-ute_!" She squealed noisily in enjoyment.

_This girl reminds me too much of The Squealing Twins. _"Shut it, you!"

The window next to the girl with pigtails opened, as well. A little boy came out, attempting to put his chin over his folded arms that were placed on the window ledge.

"Lady! Jump! Jump! JUMP!" he yelled, grinning toothily.

"Don't make me come over there, you brat!" She realized that since she was clutching her nose, she sounded awfully nasally.

The boy stuck his tongue out. "Go live in a trashcan, witch!" He blew a raspberry and closed the window.

Courtney scoffed, rolling her eyes. _Brats nowadays — or … not nowadays since this is 2008, so that would — ugh, _forget it_!_

A window three stories down from the little boy's opened, and a balding man came out, shaking his fist in a strangely stereotypical manner, scowling hard.

"Shut yer traps, ya damn humans!" He waved his fist some more. "Else this fist right her' will hit straight yer face faster than a — a — a — _aw_, never mind there." He shut close the window.

Soon then, the little boy's window opened, and he started pestering her to jump and calling her a witch. The boy and the pigtailed girl joined in with him. Squeals, insults, and constant persistence surrounded her eardrums, banging and banging. Courtney gritted her teeth. She let go of her nose, grabbed onto the window ledge, and stuck her head out, ready to yell.

Abruptly, the window on the far right end of the apartment opened. An elderly woman came out. She held out her cane and screamed on the top of her lungs: "PANCAKES!" She retreated and closed the window.

Everyone stared at the closed window as if they were expecting the old lady to come out again. Slowly, the nosy people brought themselves back inside and shut their windows, a strange look upon their faces.

Courtney touched her nose and sighed in utter relief when she found out it wasn't bleeding anymore. She frowned and then faced the sixteen-year-old delinquent. Her grip on the ledge tightened and tightened.

"DUNCAN!" she roared. "IF I JUMP — AND YOU _BETTER _CATCH ME _IF _I DO — YOU WILL HAVE TO PROVIDE THE PROPER EQUIPMENT FOR MY INJURY, YOU GOT THAT? DO I HAVE TO WRITE IT DOWN ON PAPER AND STICK IT DOWN YOUR EARS JUST FOR YOUR MEAGER BRAIN TO UNDERSTAND?" She didn't understand why she was yelling so loud especially when Yvonne and Natasha were just outside doing whatever they were doing.

Duncan sighed, nodding carelessly. "Yeah, whatever lets you sleep at night." He prepared his position again, rubbing his hands together. He adjusted his shorts and stayed in position. "Now jump! Jump as if your ma found out where you stashed all of your Playboy magazines!"

The former C.I.T. placed her left foot on the ledge and took a deep breath. "Shut up! I don't have any Playboy magazines!" She lifted herself up on the ledge. She let go of it and held onto the sides, gulping. She looked down and almost felt like going back down when she realized how far a length it was. She saw Duncan who was ready to catch her.

_Duncan's idiocy is contagious_, Courtney thought.

She jumped.

_Oh, God. Ohhh, God. Don't let me die, don't let me die, don't let me die! Duncan, if I'm suddenly in the afterlife, I _swear _you will be the first and only person I will haunt forever! _

"Aw, mother — oof!"

Courtney braced for the painful impact but felt nothing; she felt something soft yet something hard. Her butt seemed to be slightly aching, but other than that, she felt fine. She saw darkness and almost slapped herself unconscious when she noticed she closed her eyes. She opened them and saw herself outside on the ground.

She heard a moan and looked down.

And almost screamed.

"Is it possible to have your chest broken into pieces?" Duncan moaned from underneath her. "Damn this shit, dude … Aw, _craaaaap_, this hurts like hell!" He moaned again in pure agony.

With slit eyes, Courtney swung her leg over until it was on the other side of Duncan and grabbed onto his shoulders. She started shaking him back and forth, not caring if the back of his head hit the ground. There was grass, anyway.

"You — " _shake _" — didn't — " _shake _" — even — " _shake, shake, shake _" — CATCH ME!" Her shakes increased, getting rougher and rougher. She wouldn't be surprised if his neck snapped off. Her scary, volatile side hoped that; her queasy side didn't.

Duncan grabbed her hands and shoved them off. He sat up, almost hitting his nose with Courtney's, but Courtney immediately moved her face to the side to prevent any further damage to her precious nose. He held onto her hands firmly with his big ones.

"I _did_," he said angrily. "But then your freakin' _shoes _smacked me in the face, and I fell with your big ass landing on my stomach!"

She turned red, a combination of embarrassment and anger. "I do _not _have a big butt!" Unconsciously, she was about to feel her rear end but stopped because that was foolish to do.

He snorted. "Uh, yeah, _suuuure_, honey."

"I don't!"

A lecherous grin spread on his lips. "Want me to find out?"

" … Why don't you cut off your hands and eat them."

He grimaced. "So you have a disgusting side too." His eyes traveled downwards, grin becoming wider. "Kinky — I like it."

"Wha — ?" She followed his gaze fast. _"EWWWWWWW!"_

"Yeah, thanks, Courtney. Now you broke my freakin' eardrums."

Courtney jumped off of him. She shuddered in disgust. She couldn't believe she was on top of him. If a bystander were to see this, he or she would've thought obscenely, thinking that _she _was straddling _him_. That would be wrong! That would be _repulsive_!

Thoughts of her having her way with him wormed its way inside her cranium, circling around like a carousel, taunting her and taunting her. She clutched her head and shook it, hoping to fling off away such thoughts.

But she felt like a hypocrite, because —

_Stop it, Courtney._

"Don't act like you didn't _love _it." Duncan appeared besides her, nudging her side with his elbow, grinning.

"I _didn't_," she spat and stepped away from his nudging. "It was purely accidental."

"Uh-huh." He grabbed her arm and started dragging her to who-knew-where.

"What the — Where are you taking me?" She tried prying her arm out of his grip.

"Where do ya think? We're gonna get your nose treated."

She stopped struggling.

* * *

_she shrugs off the truth and drowns in her lies

* * *

_

As they entered the police station, Courtney watched as almost every police officer greeted Duncan. They passed by the front desk and a woman manning it greeted him with a satirical tone. (Courtney remembered that she was Duncan's older sister, Mia.) They went behind the front desk, where only employees could go, and trudged down the hallway. More and more police officers who passed by greeted him — even the people who weren't out in the field and were in charge of managing the files greeted him. Everyone working in that station knew him.

The duo entered a small room. When the lights turned on, Courtney saw that it looked like a mini clinic. Four beds were on the right side of the room, obviously for injured officers. On the other side were counters and cabinets with medicinal items, antibiotics, and other medical-related tools. A generic-looking TV was installed on the far left corner of the room.

Duncan pulled her over to the sofa near them and made her sit down. He walked over to the cabinets and got out a first-aid kit. He sat down on the sofa near her and opened the kit.

"A first-aid kit for my _nose_?" Courtney questioned.

He stared at her blankly. "You have a scratch on your hand," he said.

Confused, she looked at her hand and saw that she did indeed have a scratch — a big one. And it was starting to smart. She held out her hand when he started to dab some cotton balls with alcohol.

"I'll get an icepack for your nose after this."

Quietly, she nodded and let him treat her hand.

She hissed when the alcohol hit her wound but remained tough. It was just a little scratch; she wasn't going to _die_. And since Duncan was treating it, she wouldn't have to worry about it getting infected.

As he took care of her hand, she couldn't help but stare at him from time to time underneath her lashes. A strange feeling surged through her, conspicuously wrapping around her heart. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she glanced away from him. She focused her attention on the white tiles.

"Done," Duncan announced. He placed a big bandage on it. He closed the kit and dumped it to the side. He then went over to the refrigerator near the sink and opened the freezer. He got an icepack and threw it at her.

She caught it and immediately put it on her nose. She sighed contentedly.

"After this, we're going to do some errands. My ma told me to grocery shopping for her since she can't; she has stuff to do at work," he informed her, drinking a bottled water he got from the fridge. "We're walking, 'cause my license got suspended."

_No surprise there_, Courtney thought disappointedly, rolling her eyes.

"And walking will take long, and the grocery list is long — which means you'll have to stay by yourself for a long time while I'm gone. So, I figured I'll bring you with me. It's gonna be freakin' boring doing all of that, and since you're pretty fun to play with, I'll bring you. Cool?"

"I'm not a toy." But she didn't complain. She didn't like being confined in his room.

He nodded and threw the water bottle in the trashcan. "Let's jet."

"Wait, don't you need to have money first? And the list, too? You don't have _that _great of a memory, _especially _when the amount of groceries needed is large. Go home first, and I'll wait here."

His teal eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How … how do you know that my house is near?"

"What?"

He got closer. "You know that my house is connected to this police station? That the other two stories are just for show to other people so they don't know that there's someone living in there?"

Hesitantly, Courtney nodded. When she had first visited Duncan's family, she had to go through the backdoor. She didn't understand. So after she had eaten dinner with them, she had gone to his bedroom alone with him and had inquired him about it. He had told her that their house was built together with the station a long time ago. His parents own the station and the house, as well. But they kept the fact that the house behind was theirs to themselves for safety reasons. It didn't matter, though, because their security system was state-of-the-art.

There was a front entrance. Someone would have to go through the police station first. There was a hallway in the way back, far away from the jail cells. A system was installed that only Duncan's family knew, and if the code was entered, the door would open. Of course a member in the family would have to have keys to the door — just like a regular household door — to open it properly. Oddly enough, there was even a doorbell. But they mostly used the backdoor now.

He inhaled through his teeth. "You must've been _one _serious girlfriend, then."

At that, a grave expression was on her face. Turning away from him, she started for the door, leaving him behind.

As soon as they walked by the front desk and out the door, Courtney heard Mia shout out, "Hey, Duncan! There's a sale at the store nearby for condoms!" The mocha-haired girl grumbled to herself and walked faster.

She heard a chuckle beside her and saw that Duncan effortlessly caught up with her.

"She thinks that you're one of … _them_." She could tell he was trying to keep it vaguely simple, and she respected that. But still, she knew what he was talking about, so what was the point in it all?

Smiling bitterly, she replied, "Just _wonderful_."

"Wow, what's up your ass?"

She scowled at him. "Everything, apparently!" She groaned and started complaining to herself unintelligibly.

The two entered a convenience store and went down the aisle, searching for items. In actuality, _Duncan _was searching while Courtney was just following him, looking around. She crossed her arms over her chest when she realized the freezing temperature. She cringed when she realized that Duncan was heading directed to the frozen goods aisle. She sighed and went after him.

Duncan was reading the list, mumbling words to himself as he did so. He sounded like he was complaining and didn't understand what was on it. He opened the door and took out a box of frozen chicken wings. He stared at it, clearly confused, shrugged, and tossed it in the cart. He pushed the cart and went on.

"You cold?" he inquired conversationally.

Courtney scoffed. "What do you _think_?" she snapped.

"Hey, here's how you can shake off the coldness."

"Ugh, what?"

"Think of me." After that, he smirked at her and walked to the vegetables/fruits section.

_Egotistical jerk. How could he even have an ego _that big_? Who could've possibly blown up that ego to the point where it squishes his brain until it can't breathe anymore, which means it isn't workable?_

She huffed, glaring at the back of said egotistical jerk's head.

_Whoever did should die._

Duncan waved his hand, motioning her to come over to him. Unwillingly, she complied and stood next to him, wondering what he needed help with. He was holding two fruits: a tangerine and an orange.

"All right, here's how it goes: this is an orange" — he picked up his left hand holding the orange — "and this is a tangerine." He did the same with his right hand holding the tangerine. "I mean, I can tell which is which, but what I don't get is what the difference between them is. They're both _orange_."

Courtney rolled her eyes at his stupidity concerning the citrus fruits. "Duncan, tangerines are smaller than oranges, able to be pocket foods because of that; oranges are bigger. Tangerines are less sour than oranges — I guess it's a bit sweeter, though that depends on your taste buds. They are also easier to peel; oranges have a hard skin, thus them being hard to peel," she explained smoothly.

He nodded, seeming impressed. "You really are smart," he noted.

Feeling complacent, she thanked him.

"And that's why you're still doing my homework."

She smiled; it was etched with sweetness and innocence, a smile that was begging for the heavens to open up and shine upon it, angels singing softly. Underneath it, however, was the ire waiting to be unleashed from the depths of her dark personality. It was clawing its way up and out of her system, but it restrained itself until it needed to come out and attack.

"Duncan," she sighed. "Duncan, Duncan, Duncan … Would you like those two fruits shoved up somewhere? How about down your esophagus? How does that sound? Hmm?" The smile twitched.

Duncan looked at her dumbly. "You say somethin'? Didn't hear you."

Seeing people pass them by, she gulped down her fury with all of her strength hard. She whipped her head away from him, smile disappearing faster than the speed of light. A haunting look came about, and she took a couple of deep breaths.

_In due time, Courtney, in due time … And then you can do _whatever _you want with him_, she thought, sounding rather creepy in her thoughts.

A fast, small whisper passed by: _With whips, handcuffs, matches, a huge comfy bed, ooooh …_

Horrified at that, she swore, "Shit!" and covered her mouth. She wasn't the type of cuss so extremely, nor would she ever even do it in _public_. She wasn't like that. She wasn't!

A little girl holding fruits samples in one hand stared at her curiously. "Shit?" she inquired, tilting her head in an adorable way.

Courtney's mouth became ajar. She thought of a plan hurriedly. "Um, well … uh, erm — Little girl, what I meant to say was — ," she tried to explain.

"Shit," the little girl finished.

Gasping, she waved both hands frantically in front of her, shaking her head sideways. "No, no, no! Of course not! That's — that's a bad word, sweetie! Now, wh-who taught you such words?" She laughed nervously, dark eyes dashing everywhere, panicky.

She frowned. "You did."

Courtney laughed louder and patted the girl's head a couple of times. "No, I did not! Cussing is wrong, and I don't do that! Ha-ha! Adults don't cuss, so _you _shouldn't cuss, all right?"

"But … _you _cussed, so that makes it all right." She smiled brightly, showing her missing two front teeth. "I'm gonna tell my mama my new word! She'll be happy!" She skipped along happily, humming.

"You just taught a little girl the word 'shit.' Round of applause for Courtney, everyone," Duncan announced near her, too close for comfort. "Ain't she a _sweet_, folks?"

Courtney smiled and elbowed him in the guts.

* * *

_she smiles, frowning

* * *

_

Duncan ran over to his bed and jumped on it, exhaling loudly with happiness. He stretched his body out.

"I am _beat_!" he declared, closing his eyes shut. He opened them and checked the time. "And it's only 7:56."

Courtney yawned. "Well, I'm tired, too. And this time, I'm not sleeping on the ground." She placed her hand on the small of her back and stretched. "My back needs to feel softness, you know."

"Unless you wanna sleep with me … "

"Duncan! I'm serious! I'm tired of sleeping on the ground! Don't you at least have a futon somewhere in the house? Or at least check in the station and see if they have some." She stomped her foot on the ground. "I don't _deserve _to sleep on the ground."

He sat up on the bed, looking at her irritably. "What, am I supposed to give the _royal treatment_ or something?"

"Give me a futon _right now_!"

"All right! _Chill _— can you do that? Do you need a demonstration? God_damn_." He got off the bed and opened his closet. He went inside it and hunted for a futon, cursing at times when random objects hit him in the head.

Courtney put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot continuously. Her patience was growing thin. She wanted to lie down on a soft — she prayed that it would be soft — futon and go to sleep, relaxing in the somewhat calm darkness. Although it was still early and she would wake up with a pounding headache, she was just too exhausted. Lately, her body didn't seem as active as much.

She saw Duncan pull out a cream-colored futon. He lifted it up and slammed it on the bed multiples of times, dust flying everywhere. Courtney turned her head away and covered her nose. She shuddered in disgust when the bits of dust flew on her everywhere.

"Dun_can_!" she cried out angrily. "There's dust on my clothes and my hair!"

Panting heavily, he set the futon on the ground and placed a comforter on top of it messily. He ignored her previous statement and brushed off the dirt on his T-shirt. He groaned and took off his shirt and threw it on the bed. He walked over to his dresser and rummaged for a new one.

Courtney's eyes pretended to be engrossed on the rock band poster on her right side, but slyly, they slid over to the built delinquent looking for a shirt. As she secretly stared at his torso, she noticed that he looked … smaller. He wasn't as built as the one she knew in Total Drama. He was fit, yes, but it seemed to be in the midst of developing. All in all, his torso was still something to ogle at.

Right after he put his shirt on, the freckled teen averted her attention back to the poster.

Duncan chuckled. "I know you were staring," he said.

She faced him, an innocent look on. "Staring? At the poster?"

He chuckled again. "You know what I mean."

She acted like she didn't know what he was talking about. "Yeah, I was staring at your poster, Duncan. I can't believe you're into this kind of music. I don't understand it. The aggressiveness, the angst, the screaming, the _outrageous _vulgarity — really … I don't see what interests you in it." She sighed, burning holes at the poster. _Drop the freakin' subject, Duncan!_

Looking as if he knew she was trying to sidetrack him, he crossed his arms over his chest and answered back, "Music is music, babe. All music genres have meaning underneath. Some meanings are actually meaningful; some are just filled with crap."

She nodded, pleased with the fact that he got distracted, agreeing with his logic about music.

"And I still know you were staring at me."

She gritted her teeth and glared. "Ugh, what is there to stare at? Okay, I'll _admit_: you have a fit body. Hip-hip-hooray. But _really_? You're just an idiot with no manners whatso_ever_. You make _me_, a woman, sleep on the ground — the _ground_, Duncan! You barely treat me with any respect, always calling me 'babe,' 'honey,' and — and 'sweetheart.' You have no self-discipline, and you are so careless with everything you do! You act before you think! _You're a Neanderthal!_" She finished, chest heaving.

He raised an eyebrow. "Um … ouch?" He smirked. "My turn. You're hot, Courtney. You got a nice, curvy body right there. Oh yeah … " He trailed, a goofy look appearing. Let the perverted daydreaming begin.

Courtney snapped her fingers.

"Huh? Oh! Smooth, long legs, big hips. You're a looker." He cleared his throat. "But of course, you've got your bad points. Which are a lot."

Locking her jaw and narrowing her eyes at him, she waited patiently. She knew what was to come.

"You're uptight. You're bossy. You're hotheaded. You're demanding. You're pushy. You're loud. You're not fun. You're overdramatic. You complain a lot. You look down on things a lot. You're judgmental. You're … a chick with issues, to put it simply." He shrugged.

Sadistic thoughts came to mind, and she thought about doing a large amount of them. But down there — deep, deep, _deep_, _way _down there — she knew he was right. About some. Okay, most. Okay, _all_!

"So that's what you think," she whispered, feeling like she fell down in a bottomless pit. She didn't show it.

"Hey, maybe if you loosened up and smiled more, tons of guys would be acting like lovesick losers around you — maybe even me." He winked. "But … I'm just sayin', you know?"

Duncan was a nice guy. Courtney knew that ever since she had found out Duncan gave DJ a new bunny and hid the fact that Bunny got eaten in Total Drama Island. Ever since then, she saw how genuine of a person he could be, even when he tried to conceal it. She loved that about him — more than she could ever imagine — and was quite envious, because she knew she could never be like that. It was actually sweet on how he would sacrifice that bravado and manly pride of his just for the sake of others even if discreetly. She really, really loved that about him.

And she loved — though unaware at the moment — the fact that even the Duncan back then, the one with her, was a nice guy, as well.

"Duncan!" a voice yelled from outside, downstairs.

Duncan sighed and yelled back, "What, Yvonne?"

"Help me prepare the dinner for today! Your mother isn't home yet for obvious reasons, and your brothers don't want to help me! Mia is currently sleeping, because she's _exhausted _from work — "

"Exhausted from work, my ass," he muttered.

" — and Natasha isn't allowed to touch anything sharp! So, could you be a kind person and come help your dear, dear nanny? Oh, Duncan, _please_! My old hands can't take it! What if I'm cutting the vegetables and the knife falls from my hands and stabs me on my foot? The thought horrifies me, honey! Oh, and _oh_! What if — ?"

"All right already!" Duncan groaned aloud and walked over to the door. "I'll help ya, I'll help ya! Don't let your granny panties get in a knot, Yvonne!"

"Duncan! You know very well that I wear — !"

He grimaced. "Don't know, don't _wanna _know!" He lowered his tone. "Don't tell me for the sake of my sanity."

_Sanity? Didn't know he had one_, Courtney thought smugly.

The delinquent faced her. "_Maybe _I'll bring some food up for you. Need to fill that tummy up with something, right?" He patted her stomach playfully.

She scowled and slapped his hand away.

He opened the door and was about to head out when Courtney grabbed his hand, stopping him. He turned back, a confused expression fixed on his face. He raised his pierced eyebrow.

"Thank you," she burst out, slightly disinclined. "For treating my hand and bringing me with you."

His face showed that he didn't know what to make of what she said. He grinned and squeezed her hand before letting go.

"Don't mention it, Princess." He left the room.

Courtney's eyes stared at the closed door. She brought the hand Duncan had squeezed to her chest, fingers tingling. Her breaths soon became fast and heavy. Powerful emotions hit her straight in the chest fast like a bazooka, aiming perfect. For some reason, her heart felt like it was jumping so high it could spurt out of her chest and fly.

Her lips felt like curving upwards.

**TBC –

* * *

**

**I Wanna Be Famous**:

What a happy chapter.

Not for long. Buah-hahahaha! :D (Maybe. Dunno.)

Oh, and just to inform you guys, this story will be short — so it's a short story! (Duh.) Of course, it could change anytime soon, but yeah, I'm thinking it doesn't have to be that long and continuous. Probably up to a one-digit chapter or so.

Or whatever.

And _ooooooh_, he called her "Princess." Huh. Why, oh, why did he? Well, there was never a proper elucidation for that, so TDI made us use our freakin' _imagination _(cue rainbow over heads, like Spongebob!) and we thought of reasons:

"He calls her that, 'cause she acts like it and, uh, stuff!"

"It's because Duncan's a sweet hottie!"

"How the hell should I know?"

" … He calls her that?" (Those who think that shouldn't be reading this.)

"The nickname 'Princess' _is _a term of endearment reserved for Courtney and Courtney only, but as said nickname is uttered, the tone has a sense of mockery, using that nickname to taunt her. But it also has a tone of affection. At least we would hope so. You should refer to 'Basic Straining' for more information."

"'Duncney' FTW!"

I guess a majority of the fan base would go for the latter …

On to the next chapter!

And Happy-almost-New Year, peoples! ❤


	5. more than you know

Samantha watched TV with an absorbed look, dark gray eyes practically cemented on the screen. Now and then, she'd shake her head in disappointment or scoff at what the news reporter was saying. But, notwithstanding all that, she kept watching.

After a while, though, she turned off the television set mounted on the wall across the bed. She threw the remote on the couch cantankerously, a scowl hard on her face.

"People nowadays," the aging woman muttered. "They can't accept the cold, hard fact that it's _their own fault_! The decisions they make because of their personal opinions, how they react, their lack of common sense — all of those things are the _primary reason _on why the government is falling apart into pieces! They even forget about the _people_. What kind of — Oh! Forget it. Once you wake up, dear, I'll show you how incomprehensible people can be." She shook her head.

Hearing no response, she forced a happy smile; it looked as though someone stapled it messily on her slightly wrinkled face. She patted her daughter's immobile hand twice and rubbed it gently.

"Oh, if only you weren't asleep, then we would've chatted about the ridiculous malarkey coming out of that woman's mouth. Her words are rehearsed — words from a _script_. She has no idea what she's talking about." She quickly held her cold hand, smile faltering; the staples were coming out. "The _nerve _of some people, right, my darling? Right? R-Right? Y-Y-You know it's rude to not … "

As she trailed off, she wasn't at all shocked to see salty liquid slide down her cheeks unexpectedly. It was warm, and she noticed that she was cold. Her skin was cold, goose bumps traveling along her tanned arm. The sudden notice, however, didn't activate her body to shiver. She was now emotionally consumed. She wanted to —

Soft sniffles were heard in the room. All of a sudden, a loud sob erupted from Samantha. The tears were nonstop on her face, dripping down from her chin, and disappearing into the white blanket. She submerged her face in the blanket, both hands gripping her daughter's arm desperately.

She felt useless; she felt helpless. And she hated that. She hated not knowing what to do, because it made her _weak_. She hated this. She hated all of this.

From outside the room, Dr. Ramirez was walking away, previously standing in front of the door, when he heard the loud sobs coming from inside.

* * *

_she's gazing at him with closed eyes

* * *

_

As Courtney spoke to Duncan, she tried to keep herself focused on his face rather than his wet bare chest, the smell of shampoo flying out of the bathroom and from his clean skin.

"Do you have any clothes for me?"

Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. "If you don't want to see something you'd like to see, turn around," he ordered.

"Something I wouldn't want to see but _liked _to see? Wha — ?" She turned a furious shade of red when he gestured his hand towards a certain place. "You're _disgusting_."

"And _someone's _still not turnin', so I guess she'd like to see a free show." He grinned, waggling his unibrow.

The girl clenched her teeth and twisted around her position on the bed, sitting Indian style now. She glared at the window before her and tapped her index finger on the bed, impatient already.

"Do you have any clothes for me or not?" she demanded.

"I'm a guy, Princess; I don't have any clothes fit for you. Unless you'd like to use one of my shirts as a sexy little dress, then I'm not stoppin' you there." He chuckled from behind.

Courtney felt herself feel light as he called her "Princess" again. It had been a while — or a long, _long _while, actually — since he had called her that nickname. She remembered back in Total Drama Island on how he would use that nickname with a tone of teasing. And as they had dated, he had started to use the nickname in an affectionate manner. Literally he had called her that and _nothing _else. Sure at times, he had called her other names such as "babe," "darling," "sweetheart," "honey pie," and so on and so forth. But, usually, it had always been "Princess." If he was serious, he'd call her by her real name sometimes.

Duncan knew that she _loved _being called that. And she did, even if she never admitted it. Every time he had called "Princess," her heart would flutter. If it were possible, it would sing and dance its heart out (no pun intended). A light would appear on her face, as well as a soft red on her cheeks. A beautiful smile — a smile rarely shown — would tug at the corners of her mouth and eventually make its way, showing the world and Duncan how ecstatic she was.

But now, she disregarded the feeling.

"Are you decent?" she questioned, swallowing down any giddiness. Her usual hard façade was on.

"Your definition or mine?"

"You're revolting, so _mine_."

"Whatever, then."

Risking her sanity, she turned around from the bed. She almost growled when she saw that he was shirtless and almost cursed out loud when she just about gasped. She internally shouted a stream of profanities, scowling.

The delinquent smirked and went inside the bathroom. Curious, Courtney leaned over to the side, trying to see what he was doing and saw that he was fixing up his mohawk with ounces and ounces of gel. She rolled her eyes and scooted down to see and talk to him properly.

"So you don't have _anything_?" _Jeez, why am I asking _Duncan _for clothing? If he _did _have any, then it would've been from one of his _flings _and covered in stink and grime. Ugh. _"Never mind. Does your sister have any spare clothes? I'm sure she and I are about the same size … "

He applied more gel to his mohawk, fixing it so it stood up firmly. "Eh, I don't know 'bout that, babe. My sister's, like, stick skinny. And she's like size extra, extra, extra, extra small for you. You're skinny and all, but you wouldn't fit a four-year-old's clothes."

"I was talking about your _older _sister, Mia."

"Oh." He hissed through his teeth, shaking his head. "She barely has any clothes here. She doesn't live here."

She got confused. "But … but she was sleeping over here last night, wasn't she?"

"She only does that when she's as tired as hell from work. She gets lazy and doesn't want to go home, so she just crashes in her old room. Freakin' freeloader … The old man wants to use her room as a storage room, but since Mia does this a lot, he doesn't. Dude's practically a sucker for her." He laughed. "She's a daddy's girl."

Courtney frowned. _Now I have _nothing _to wear. _

Then she had an idea — something that would require Duncan to agree to.

"So … that means you have to take me shopping," she said, brightening up. She wasn't a shopaholic, but she was a girl; therefore, she liked to shop. She rarely shopped for her own accord, but she took advantage of opportunities to do so — like now.

Duncan popped his head out, mohawk gelled up perfectly. "_Me _buy _you _clothes with _my money_? As if you were my _girlfriend_?" He shook his head. "Uh-uh. No freakin' way. I'm not gonna spend my money on you. You're a _princess_; you have enough money to feed every family in Africa."

She scoffed, retaliating, "So — " _True. _Her mother was prosperous … which meant she was, too. "Okay, that's true, but that doesn't mean I have money in my pockets right now! All I have is my PDA!"

"Then sell it," he suggested, walking over to his dressers. "Or I'll sell it for you. I can rip off some punks for ya." He winked at her.

"Oh, what a _magnificent _idea," she said sarcastically.

He put on his regular shirts. "Well, I'm not buying anything for you."

The hands on the bed transformed into tight fists, blanket underneath wrinkling in the process. She turned red with anger and glared sharp daggers at him. She desperately wished that the phrase _"If looks could kill" _was undeniably true.

"I haven't showered! My hair is becoming all greasy! My skin is drying out! I'm starting to feel all itchy, and — and — !"

"You stink," he finished for her. He leaned towards her, sniffing, and waved his hand in front of his face. His nose scrunched up in disgust. He pinched his nose. "Damn, you're like a living _dumpster_!"

She scoffed, offended to the max. "How _dare _— ?" She stopped, breathing in and out. Snapping at him wouldn't improve her situation. He wouldn't budge still. "If you don't want to endure my … _stench_, then would you — " she forced the word out, suddenly having a hard time saying it " — _please _be generous and buy me some clothes?" The words had spikes wrapped around them, hurting her throat as it traveled out. It was horrible.

An amused expression was taped on his face. "Fine."

A satisfied smile was about to appear but halted.

He agreed easily. _Too _easily.

She sighed.

_The idiot had an ulterior motive_, she thought bitterly.

* * *

_her heart was like a loose fist.

* * *

_

Courtney wore an oversized skull T-shirt of Duncan's tucked inside the faded black shorts Duncan had gotten from Mia's leftover clothing in her closet. She also wore a gray jacket — courtesy of Mia _again _— over, zipped up just to cover up the grisly image of the skull. She donned her own wedges.

She felt refreshed, because she had just showered. Unfortunately, she had to use Mia's leftover underwear — which she washed countless of times — but she reused her own bra. She still felt dirty, but at least she showered, destroying all the bacteria and dirt hidden in her epidermis and hair.

She stole glances, suspicious, at the whistling teen beside her. She was trying to figure out what he was planning. Knowing him, it would most likely be something beyond embarrassing or something that would plant a lot of ready-to-erupt volcanoes inside her.

The former C.I.T. sighed and placed her hands in the pockets of the gray jacket.

She was going to catch him in the act. She wasn't going to fall prey to his evil actions and make a fool out of herself _again_. Every move he would make and every word he would say she would keep track. She assumed he liked to give out vague hints of what he was going to do — at least she _hoped _he would.

"So … where to, Princess?" Duncan asked calmly.

At the question, Courtney felt giddy. He was actually letting her pick what she wanted! She looked around the mall, eyes whizzing around excitedly. But she tried to hide her excitement; she didn't want him to mock her about it.

"Well, there _is _this one shop I remember going to when — ," she began, immediately knowing what store she wanted to go in.

"Let's go to this shop." He stopped walking and pointed to the shop next to him with his thumb.

Instantaneously grimacing, she saw the shop. _Hardcore _was the name of it, unsurprisingly. In the display window were mannequins wearing rock/skater/punk/Goth/emo clothing that was far, _far _dissimilar than the shop Courtney wanted to go to. Stickers of skulls and tags of names and bands scattered all over the windows. The store had some crazy music blasting from a generic-looking boom box.

"If you want to shop here, then fine. But there is _no way _that _I'm _going inside this shop and buy clothes no less." She shook her head and took two steps back, almost bumping into a passerby.

Duncan snatched her hand and pulled her to him. "My money, remember?" He smirked.

_Oh, no. This was his plan_, Courtney thought with horrified eyes as he dragged her inside the appalling store. _To make me walk over to the — the _dark side_._

She pried her hand out of his grip, but he quickly snatched his back, hand tight on hers. She slapped his hand repeatedly, twisting her hand out and hurting it in the course.

"You are _not _— I repeat _not _— going to make me wear those awful rags!" Courtney shouted. "You can't make me! Stop it, Duncan! _No!_"

"Ugh, dude, shut it and just chill," the female salesclerk said, rolling her eyes and reading a _Rolling Stones _magazine.

Courtney directed a cold glare at her. "Do you want that magazine somewhere you _don't _want it to be, missy?"

The girl replied with yet another roll of the eyes.

Duncan chuckled, scanning through a rack of skimpy clothing. "Follow the chick's advice, babe," he advised. "If you do, that pole stuck in your butt will come out. Probably."

"What is the _meaning _of this, Duncan? Why are you going to make me wear _this_?" She grabbed a black sleeve-shirt and grimaced when she saw that it was cut in half messily, meant to show someone's midriff.

"Maybe I just don't want to go inside some preppy, gay-ass store. Maybe I don't want to spend a lot. Maybe" — he grinned lecherously at her — "maybe I just wanted to see you in these clothes." He showed her a corset along with a mini skirt.

The attire reminded her of a certain Goth, and she screamed out loud in anger, stalking off outside the store. She huffed and rested her arms on the railing, looking down at the people walking.

She sensed a presence beside her and saw from the corner of her eye that it was, of course, him.

"It's my money, Princess," Duncan stated.

"But you _know _that I don't wear those kinds of clothing! I can't stand looking at the sight of it, either!" She poked his bicep hard. "And I bet _you _wouldn't stand wearing any of my kind of clothing, too!"

He nodded. "True that. But it isn't hard to act like you guys."

Her onyx eyes tightened. "Ex_cu _— just _what _are you saying? That I'm _predictable_?"

"Mm, yeah, pretty much."

His tone angered her even more. "The same goes for you!" She faced her body towards him, one hand gripping the railing really tight. "You're an idiot all the time! It shouldn't be hard to talk like that or even act like that!"

He propped up his arm on the railing, a grin forming on his young face. A mischievous and amused expression was on, as well.

"Let's put that to the test, shall we, darling?"

It was a stupid game. It was a stupid, stupid, stupid, _stupid _game. To think, she would have to wear _his kind's _clothing and act like _his kind_. Now, she didn't want to discriminate those types of people, but it was true — to her, anyway. She shouldn't do this. She shouldn't. She should just convince him to go to another store, even if it wasn't one she didn't like, as long as it wasn't the one behind her.

But her natural competitiveness and her pride drove her. It was what made her shoot back great comebacks continuously. She just had to do it. It was like a strange hunger of hers. She didn't crave it all the time, but whenever an opportunity strikes open, she would take it with happiness, _ate it _with happiness.

"We shall, _darling_."

Grinning hugely — Courtney could see bits of smugness in it — he grabbed her hand and walked inside the store.

She made a huge mistake.

She sat down uncomfortably on one of the red beanbags as Duncan picked out some clothes for her to wear. Her face contorted in an expression of disgust as he selected a pile of skimpy clothing. He carried the pile over to the cash register counter. She heard him ask the girl some questions, and she knew it was about her since the salesclerk glanced at Courtney ever so often, an entertained smile on her round face. The clerk brought up some clothing that Courtney couldn't detect, for Duncan's body was blocking her view. She saw him nod his head and high-five the girl. The girl took out a shopping bag and stuffed the clothes in. Duncan happily accepted it and began to walk towards Courtney.

"What is it?" Courtney demanded, making an attempt to peek through the bag.

He wagged his finger at her. "Ah-ah-ah. Get inside the dressing room and try 'em on first, sweetheart. I'm sure you'd like it _very well_." He smirked profoundly.

_Damn it. _She scowled and stole the bag from him roughly. She was rudely pushed inside the dressing room. She kicked the door two times with her shoe and locked it, exhaling heavily. She placed the bag on the mini skull chair and pulled out a plaid skirt and a black shirt. She examined the shirt more and realized, with great horror, that the shirt was cut off messily just like the sleeve-shirt earlier. It had a picture of a skull that looked like it was sewed on recently.

She gulped. She stripped off her clothes and started putting on the other clothes. After she completed putting them on, she gazed at her reflection using the full-view mirror.

The plaid skirt — black and red — stopped in her mid-thigh. The shirt showed off her smooth tummy. She wore fishnet stockings and black Converse.

"So, how do you look, Princess?" Duncan asked from the other side.

"I look … horrible!" she moaned. "I look like some prostitute!"

"Ooh, now that's a sexy picture."

"Shut the hell up! I'm not going outside wearing such minuscule clothing!" She crossed her arms as if she were trying to cover up her exposed skin.

"It can't be that bad, you know."

"It _can _be!"

"So you're forfeiting? The game barely started." She could see the smirk on his face so vividly. So vividly, it _irked _her.

She groaned aloud in frustration, unlocking the door, and kicking it open. She heard a hiss, and she smiled, knowing that she hurt him. She closed the door and saw the supposed injured delinquent holding two belts.

Without warning, he invaded her personal space and put on the two belts around her, making both of them crooked for style. He adjusted the belts more, fingers brushing against her exposed skin, and stepped back just a bit. His teal eyes assessed her wardrobe, smirk growing and growing.

"Damn, you're delicious," he remarked. His hands grasped onto her waist.

The speedy warmth and physical contact surprised Courtney. She jumped back, pushing his hands away, and glared at him.

"_Don't _touch me as you please," she warned.

"Sensitive much?" He chuckled. "No, but really, you look hot, Princess."

Courtney brushed off the compliment, a devious grin slowly sliding on her lips. She ignored the puzzled look on Duncan's face and left the store, knowing exactly where her destination was going to be.

Payback time.

* * *

_she vaguely remembers the feeling of flying

* * *

_

"Know what, Princess? I think you're trying to make me homo-fied," Duncan told her, eyes looking like they desperately want to stab the heck out of the clothing bestowed upon him.

Courtney rolled her eyes at his assumption. She shoved the clothes in his hands carefully so she wouldn't wrinkle them. They were of top-quality and _extremely _expensive.

"Just try them on, all right? I have more selected for you." She thought of the navy blue polo she saw earlier when she was looking for a shirt for him.

"Can't you just pick one that's, oh, I don't know, _less girlie_?" He grudgingly headed off to the dressing room.

The mocha-haired girl smiled to herself and went off to pick more clothes for him. She absolutely loved shopping in this store, because it was filled with so many fashionable items and such that suited her style perfectly. It was a shame the store was expensive — they were _brand name _clothing — but Duncan could afford it.

Speaking of which … where did Duncan _get _the money?

Shrugging off her suspicions, she hummed a lullaby to herself and scanned through the racks jubilantly.

After a few minutes, Courtney realized that Duncan was taking far too long. She didn't even take that much time when she had tried on the clothes she was wearing. She folded the T-shirt she was examining earlier nicely and set it back down on top of the others. She tugged at the hem of her skirt as she passed by an employee — he was gawking at her strange attire with red cheeks — and sauntered over to the dressing room Duncan was occupying. She knocked on it three times.

"Are you finished, Duncan?" she inquired impatiently. "It has been about five minutes already!"

"No way in _hell _am I comin' out looking like some pretty boy," he stated inflexibly.

She sighed, placing her hands on both sides of her hips. "Come out. You're wasting time. I have to figure out if those clothes suit you. If they don't, I'll find something — "

"It's bad enough that these things are steep! So do me a favor and get me outta these things, 'cause I don't know how to take'em out."

_Idiot. _"Ew, I'm not going to _help _you get out of those clothes!" Realizing her tone was loud, she lowered it and leaned closer to the door. "Come _on_, Duncan. Get out already!"

She heard a few muttered curses and rustling. Then her ears heard the door start to unlock.

Duncan actually looked like a human being in Courtney's perspective. He wore beige shorts with a simple black belt on. He had a black sleeve-shirt, sleeves stopping just above his elbow. Over the sleeve-shirt, he wore another shirt on, though the sleeves were almost the same size as a wife-beater. However, the shirt was a dark green made of fine material. He wore long socks and black tennis shoes. To put it all together, he looked like a living prep.

Despite the mohawk, piercings, dog collar, and the scary expression.

"You actually look … nice," Courtney managed to muster. She admitted that he did look very fine-looking — even more so than his usual — but she tried to stifle the giggles threatening to come out of her mouth. He looked good, but since he didn't don it perfectly and stood there so uncomfortably, she knew that it just wasn't … _him_. And it entertained her greatly.

"I feel like roughin' a dork up," Duncan sneered, plucking the shirt with his thumb and index finger roughly. "Babe, if I could, I'd tear this crap into pieces."

"But you can't. So go and pay for it now. We need to explain your little game and the rules, right?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Rules? What _rules_?" He grinned naughtily.

While Duncan paid, still wearing the clothes, the posh-looking cashier was eyeing Courtney such distaste. Courtney gave him a frightening glare until he turned to eye Duncan strangely. She could tell that the cashier wasn't judgmental towards him, but she saw him glance at the mohawk and piercings as he scanned the clothing with the barcode scanner. She realized that Duncan should've taken off the clothes before he bought them, because slamming his shoe on the counter just so the cashier could scan it wasn't all that great.

"Lucky I didn't buy any underwear in there," Duncan muttered as they exited the shop.

"Jeez, where did you get all the _money_?" Courtney asked when he carelessly shoved the money in the cashier's chest.

With a smirk, he answered her, "From my little brothers. They stash all their money underneath their mattresses." He snickered.

The two opposite dressed teens entered the food court and took a seat across from each other. Duncan grabbed his dog collar and snapped it off. He stood up and leaned over the table, putting it around Courtney's slender neck. Courtney was surprised, because she knew he never, _ever _took off his dog collar. She watched him take off his wristband, as well, and put it around her wrist. It was loose, but it didn't fall off.

"Obviously the game is to act like each other," Duncan explained, relaxing against his seat. "I act like you, you act like me. Seems simple, eh?"

Courtney nodded. _Can't believe I'm doing this …_

"But it isn't that simple, babe. You have to _really _act like me."

"What, you mean curse like a sailor and act like such a complete moron?"

"No, I meant act like me. When you're talking to someone, respond to them like how I do. React to situations like I do. Get the picture?" He smirked at her. "If I'm so predictable, then it shouldn't be that hard, right?"

She scowled at him. "So that means you have to be responsible and polite! And you actually care about the other person's feelings! You're _nice_! And take off the stupid piercings, would you?" She made an attempt to tear them off.

He clutched her dangerous hands and forcibly placed them on the table.

"I get that I have to be polite and responsible, but nice? Care about the other person's feelings? You're not that nice, Princess. In fact, you're not nice _at all_."

"I'm totally nice!"

He was disbelieving. "Okay, here: if we say or do something that's out-of-character, then we both get to say something about it. Deal?"

It was a reasonable offer. She nodded. She saw that her hands were still squeezed by his and pried them out.

"And if one of does something _completely _out-of-character, or acts like themselves, or _refuses _to act how the other person should act, then — "

"That person will lose points," he finished. "Basically, we'll both be keeping tabs on each other. Person with the most penalties is the loser; person with the least penalties is the winner."

"What does the winner get?" Her voice was thrilled. She couldn't wait to know what the winner got, or rather, what _she _was going to get. She knew she was going to win; being Duncan was effortless.

He let out slight chuckle. "Let's … keep that for later, m'kay?"

Every time Courtney was in any situation that contained at least a tiny portion of competition, she constantly anticipated that certain feeling you get. It was like a rush, thrilling her at every moment. It kept her active and positive. She got easily motivated just by thinking, _"If I win, I will feel good." _And she would just like any other normal person.

She was going to win. She knew that.

"Starting … ," Courtney murmured, a small grin on.

"Right … ," Duncan joined in, a wild grin on.

And, in synchronization — "Now!"

The green mohawk-wearing teen stood up from his seat. He checked the time on his watch — _Where in the world did he get that watch? _Courtney thought — and sighed audibly. He looked at her and nodded his head to the left.

"Let's go someplace else, Courtney," he said, a somber look taking place. The smirk was tossed away immediately.

_Wow, he's pretty serious. He called me "Courtney." _Courtney shrugged. "Whatever," she answered with an indifferent tone.

And as he turned away and began walking, she could've sworn she saw the corners of his mouth lift up just a bit.

The two walked down the street. Duncan had his hands in his pockets, and Courtney was walking with a slight slouch to the back. She put on a bored expression that she used to see Duncan have on a lot. She tried to overlook the stares she was getting from the people passing by her, especially from the guys. Her wardrobe exposed a lot of skin, but at least it wasn't nothing more than her stomach and thighs.

It was quiet between them. The silence was beginning to poke at Courtney, an awkward air abruptly surrounding her. She clenched and then unclenched her fists sometimes. She needed to do something, or else she would grow insane.

"Where the hell are we going, Duncan?" Courtney asked, annoyed. "We're just walking and walking here."

He looked back and glared at her. She was surprised on how powerful it was. "Why don't you be _patient _and wait? All of your immature complaining isn't doing me any good, so shut up," he snapped. He faced forward and continued on walking wherever he was going to.

A wave of shock hit her straight in the face, bulls-eye. She didn't know whether or not he was really acting like her, or if he was really annoyed with her complaining. It should be the former, because she just started complaining _now_. Did she really act like that? Or was it only to him?

"Damn, I was just asking. Here you are, walking off to who-the-hell-knows-where, and I'm just asking a freakin' simple question, making you snap at me as if I kissed your boyfriend." _Did I just say that?_

He stopped and faced her. He let out a sardonic laugh. "For your information, Courtney, I'm not homosexual. I'm still trying to figure out on where the building is at. Your aggravating voice is pestering my thoughts, and I can't think straight."

Someone was most likely controlling her body. She was a puppet, and someone was controlling the strings with a diabolical agenda. Suddenly she was so into the game; she was so into her character. Her mind was really focused, but she didn't know what she was thinking or what she was doing and saying.

She stepped forward and smirked devilishly. At that, she could see Duncan's teal eyes widen just a bit. "So what you're saying is … " — she stepped forward again, inches from his face — "that my _voice _is … _distracting _you?" Her tongue slid down the edge of her teeth. She thought she saw him glance down at her lips.

"No," he responded gradually, "what I'm saying is, is that your voice is so annoying and ugly that my brain gets completely repulsed and it malfunctions. But since I'm intelligent — a quality you _lack _— it runs on perfectly." He smiled triumphantly and began walking away from her.

_How. Dare. He? _she screamed mentally.

She was going to lash out, shrieking out insults and profanities so much that she would turn purple with a hazardous feeling of hostility. She wanted to tear out those piercings and shove them down his throat, making him swallow it against his will.

But she didn't. She couldn't afford losing the game, especially to him.

This was just game; however, she knew that Duncan was taking advantage of it by acting so low to infuriate her.

But … she wondered if this really _was _the reason why she was mad.

She inhaled and exhaled. She swallowed down the pins and needles she desperately, _desperately _wanted to throw at him. She forced a smirk and skipped over to Duncan, catching up to his casual speed. She draped a lazy arm over his broad shoulders.

"Duncan doesn't think that," Courtney whispered in his pierced ear. "Duncan _loooooves _me. He _waaaants _me. He has to _haaaave _me." She exhaled on his ear heavily.

"Now that's very attractive." He chuckled, but then quickly added, "Not."

Her smirk grew. He slipped, she knew.

Courtney perceived that they were walking to a place with little civilization. She saw that it was getting dark, too. She felt all cold, and she stepped closer to Duncan for more warmth absentmindedly.

Quickly, her dark eyes spotted a suspicious-looking amount of guys loitering around in the alleyway adjacent to her. Another group approached them, making the previous group snap their heads towards them, straightening up and glaring. She could hear something inside her blare out _DANGER, DANGER_!

A semi-bald guy from the group that approached suddenly caught sight of her and grinned evilly. He walked over to another guy, who looked like the group's leader, and whispered something. The supposed leader's eyes traveled over to Courtney, and he nodded.

Speedily, the semi-bald guy sprinted towards her and gripped her arm, dragging her over to the two menacing groups.

Courtney screamed, kicking and punching. "Who the hell do you think you are?" And, just for the heck of it, she added, "You jackass!"

He shoved her in the midst of the group where the guys surrounded her, cracking their knuckles. She glared at all of them, refusing to whimper and look weak. She had the law firm of Fleckman, Fleckman, Cohen, and Strouse wrapped around her pinkie! She wasn't going to let these barbaric, unhygienic, grammar- and mentally-challenged, debauched _imbeciles _intimidate her. Forget about this stupid game!

"Listen, you inhuman, piece of gar — !" she started shouting.

"Ugh, just what the fu — uh, what in the world are you idiots _doing_?"

Courtney directed her attention to Duncan whose fists were clenched very tightly and eyes glowering so coldly a blizzard was to come. She kept her mouth shut.

He stomped over to them. His icicle eyes scanned the groups, sneering. "You guys think you can just steal my girlfriend away from me?"

_GIRLFRIEND?_

"She still needs to be tamed! We're still in the beginning of it all! She's still wearing those God-awful _rags_, which makes her look like some hooker or anything related to that disgusting job — if it should be called one, of course. Who gave you the _right _to just grab her like that? What if she got hurt?" he continued on. He was on a roll here.

The leader stepped up. "Look, ya gay punk," he growled. "This right here is a private business, and we're just borrowing your little sucker for a damn while." He whipped his head to the huge guy in the front of the other group. "See here, Doug buddy! I got ya a pretty fine-ass toy right here!"

The guy, Doug, glared ferociously at him. "Shut the _fuck _up, Wilson. I said to bring back my girlfriend, not some internet prostitute!"

Courtney gasped, a red tinge of anger growing on her cheeks. She growled lowly.

"So this is some personal matter between the two of you?" Duncan questioned. He sighed exasperatedly. "Give me my girlfriend back. Obviously this doesn't concern the both of us." He moved towards Courtney, but Wilson blocked him with his arm.

"I _told you_ I need to use her for a _damn while_. Ya got that straight, asshole?"

Doug's group walked over to the other group, holding all sorts of weapons: a pipe, a baseball bat, knives, chains and more. The group surrounding Courtney turned forward and held out their weapons. She even saw a pistol, which terrified her a bit.

_What do I do? Why are they doing this? I am not an internet prostitute! _She glanced at Duncan. _Nor am I a hooker! These people … they're going to — oh, the thought really bothers me!_

Wilson and Doug took a couple of steps forward until they were all up in each other's personal space. Since Wilson was shorter, he craned his head up, sneering greatly at the other. Doug's fists trembled to hit him, and they twitched at times.

"You stole my girlfriend!" Doug roared.

"She came to me! And anyways, I got you this chick over there! Happy?" Wilson roared back.

"Go to hell, asswipe! My girlfriend — I want her back! Where the hell is she? You keepin' her captive?"

"What? No!"

The leaders continued bickering, tone escalating with every new sentence. Soon later, the fright inside Courtney shrunk, and she grew to be very, very annoyed by all of this. If they were going to fight, why was she here? She was just a pathetic excuse for the Wilson guy. She wasn't needed.

Duncan then pushed the two away from each other, hands on shoulders. "All right, all right! Stop your insane altercating!"

They both didn't listen.

Courtney saw the delinquent's upper lip curl up. He pushed them back again but with a great amount of force. The two flew back, landing on their rear ends.

"Just stop it, guys!" he shouted.

She felt at awe to see Duncan step in and be the mediator even if this fight was going to be life-threatening and something that didn't _at all _concern him or Courtney. She was proud to see him do that and anticipated on what he was going to do next.

He shook his head disappointedly, clicking his tongue. "Guys, come on now … " He paused.

_Jeez, why's he being all dramatic now? _She rolled her eyes.

"I was a _C.I.T._, goddammit!"

_Very funny, Duncan. You should win the "Comedian of the Year" award. You are hi-_la-_rious. _

Doug and Wilson began punching the life out of each other as soon as they stood up quickly. Kicks, spits — to which Courtney wanted to gag at — punches, and swears were bouncing back and forth like a never-ending game of ping-pong. The scene grew entirely boring, and she wished that they would just knock each other out already. They were both juvenile. What they were _fighting about _was juvenile; literally fighting over a girl was as equally immature as two girls fighting over a boy. It was like high school all over again except with a pool of danger and more ridiculousness.

The guy that grabbed her earlier let out a warrior cry, and all the gangsters surrounding her imitated him and charged over to the opposing group. They began to fight, as well.

A calloused hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her out of the mess occurring. She saw Duncan staring at the gang fight in pure amusement, but when he saw that she was staring at him, the amusement hid and a scowl was on his face.

"What are you looking at?" Duncan snapped, annoyed. "Let's leave this idiotic war and go already. And stop staring at me, it's weird."

Courtney smirked. "I _am _going to win this, you know," she told him, determined. "No way will _you _beat _me_."

He exchanged a smirk with her, as well. He had _one _hell of a smirk, she admitted. It was like he was _born _to smirk, though it was very irritating a lot.

"Think again, Courtney."

"Don't need to."

And the smirk grew.

**TBC –**

* * *

**Rock n' Roll**:

Yup. Long chapter right here. Very long.

Stay tuned for the next chapter. ;)


	6. too much

_Finally! _Courtney thought as the taxi cab slowly halted to a stop, smoothly driving to the curb where she and Duncan were standing at. She saw the cab driver — a terribly skinny middle-aged man wearing a Hawaiian T-shirt and drinking a juice box — lean to the passenger's seat and open the door for them. She suddenly felt like not riding in this cab, because he wasn't wearing his seat belt and seemed awfully tired what with how dark and heavy his eye-bags were.

Grimacing openly, the "punk" Courtney took hold of Duncan's left arm, pulling him down until his ear was leveled at her mouth.

"I'm not sitting next to that freak," she whispered quickly. "He might molest me!"

"Courtney, we can both sit in the back. Stop being so dramatic and lets go." He pried out of her tight grip roughly and opened the door next to the passenger's side. Courtney followed after him, kicking the door the cab driver had opened close hard.

As soon as she slammed the door shut, her nostrils met with an acrid smell — she specified it was a mixture of strong cologne and aftershave with a dash of juice and something else she didn't want to know. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she unconsciously scooted over to Duncan who put his seat belt on.

She didn't follow suit.

"Where to?" the man asked huskily; his tone was as if he had a massive sore throat, though still comprehensible. He squeezed the juice box and threw it on the ground where a pile of them were messily scattered around. The plastic bag around the shift gear was filled with many more juice boxes. He stuck his hand in it and got out another box.

"Place d'Armes Hôtel & Suites, please," Duncan answered. "And could you put both hands on the wheel, sir? Your juice box can wait."

_That hotel sounds fancy. Why are we going there? _"Just let him do what he wants, jeez," Courtney told him, putting her right leg over her left thigh.

The man nodded in agreement but listened to Duncan's command. "The lil' lady is right, pal. I can do what I want when — " He stopped when his small eyes glanced at the rear-view mirror, widening. "Hey, pal … This lady right here is your … fun toy tonight, huh?"

Courtney felt Duncan put his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. He eyed the man suspiciously. "She's not my fun toy; she's my girlfriend. My business is my business. I don't need you meddling in it, so just drive on."

The cab driver unexpectedly drove the car to the side, putting the shift gear to PARK fast. He threw his juice box on the passenger side's seat and opened the dashboard, fumbling through it.

"Uh, _hello_? What the hell are you doing?" Courtney asked, onyx eyes narrowed at the driver.

He took out a mini glass bottle that had a sign of a cross on it. He took off the cork and turned around in his seat. He started splashing it on her continuously.

"The power of Christ compels you! I can see the evil in her eyes, staring daggers at me, pal! This is for her own good, the greater good!" the man yelled out with wide eyes.

Courtney covered herself. _"Just what the freakin' hell are you doing?" _she screamed. "You're nuts! You are _nuts_!"

He began splashing it at Duncan.

"Hey, dude — what the fuck?" Duncan yelled, taking off his seat-belt.

"Ah-ha, penalty!"

"Damn it, shut up, Courtney!"

"Stop getting mad just because I spotted an obvious penalty!"

The man wasn't stopping. He looked like he was determined. "You brought her here! You're under her spell! She's a succubus from Hell! Hey, I rhymed there, right?" He lost his focus but regained it back. "Demon, get out of him! Take back this succubus! Take her _back_! The power of Christ!"

"Look, ya nut-job! She's just my freakin' chick! Quit splashin' that — " The delinquent licked his lips when the holy water went on it. "Motherf — Hey! This is booze!"

Courtney turned to him. "How do you know that?"

"How else? I drank it before!"

"You're underaged! And an idiot! An underaged idiot! You're under the influence!"

"Like I give a flying _shit_! Now's not the time for your preaching!"

Courtney got up all in his face. "Penalty, penalty, penalty, penalty!" she repeated, tone ascending with each word. "You're losing already! Admit it — I'm the winner!"

"Would you quit it for just a minute and help me kill this dude that's throwing alcohol in our faces?"

"Changing the subject won't do you — !"

The bottle whizzed past their faces, almost hitting her face by tiny _centimeters_. She partially felt the bottle as it flew. The bottle smashed into tiny glass, a crack forming on the back window.

Everyone was frozen.

Silence formed.

_That bottle could've hurt me_, Courtney thought, a pinch of fright in her system. _And it could've hurt Duncan, too._

The man nervously chuckled. "Er … the, uh, bottle sort of, um, slipped from my … uh, hand, 'cause of the — ," he defended himself lamely.

Duncan took off his seat belt, unwrapped his arm around Courtney's waist, and socked the cab driver in the face. A crack was heard. The man let out a loud cry of agony. He fell back on the steering wheel, back of the head hitting the rear-view mirror, and covered his face. He began yelling out every profanity fit to make a mother blush. Courtney could detect small liquids of blood slide down his nose.

Wide-eyed, she slowly turned to Duncan who cracked his knuckles and glared ferociously at the driver. He unlocked the door on his side, opened it, and got out pulling Courtney with him in the process. As soon as both of them got out of the vehicle, he slammed the door close with intense strength, making the window tremble. His grip on her arm stayed put, and he started walking ahead speedily, she forcibly in tow.

While they walked, Courtney didn't know what to think about what just happened. She almost got injured by centimeters. Duncan punched a guy in the face, possibly breaking his nose.

It wasn't as if she was suddenly _afraid _of him — the idea was seriously preposterous. She knew he was impulsive like that, acting with his emotions at times. If he ever got furious, he moved _fast_. Sometimes, he was unstoppable; it would take about six football players to stop him — but that could be an exaggeration to most. Fortunately for the man, he only punched him _once_. If Duncan inflicted more searing pain on the man, the man would have to be sent to the hospital for a long period of time.

Not taking the irritable silence, she broke it and asked, "Why did you — ?"

"You almost got hurt," he interrupted, still walking. She realized his pace was slow now.

"Yes … I know that. But you didn't have to _punch_ him, you know. He may have deserved — or he _did _deserve that punch, but you shouldn't have done it. And besides, it was an accident."

He stopped and looked at her, taking forwards steps until he was passing her personal space zone. Her eyes read the needles of anger in them and spots of concern.

_Concern … _, Courtney thought, feeling quite flattered. _He was _concerned _about me?_

"And if it _did _hit you?" he whispered angrily. "Would I still be able to punch him? So you have to get _hurt _in order for me to punch that shit-head? Is that what you're saying?"

She attempted to take a couple of steps back. He was way too close, and she was getting abnormal emotions about it. But his hands snatched her forearms firmly, and the eye contact he was sending her kept her in place.

"He could report you," she informed him. "He could."

He laughed coldly. "And I could, too! Poor customer service, a car that smells like ass and _looks _like one. He almost injured you. That'll make the service he's working for fire the hell out of him." He paused. "I did it for you — happy? That should be obvious."

The Duncan she had fallen in love with was coming out. She didn't know that he was like this before, golden heart and all. He did something idiotic for something genuine. His true colors were showing. He had an exterior that was tough like a diamond; his interior, however, was pure in its own way. He wasn't perfect, but he had a heart that pounded with every beat of benevolence.

The sweet things he would do came from the heart. He was romantic like that — messily romantic. And yet he did it in his own unique way.

It saddened her, though. Where did that golden heart go? Did it turn into rust, turning dark and cold? Why wasn't he the same anymore?

The Duncan she had fallen in love with was here — but this was the past.

He was long gone.

Courtney felt his calloused hand cup her chin. She watched him lean forward and trapped her unprepared lips softly.

She did not move, nor did she respond to the kiss.

Okay, maybe her lips responded a _little_, but still — she let him do all the work.

After a short while — much to her hidden dismay — he gave back her lips, which were prickling with hot desire. It wanted more, more, and more. But instead of giving in to her lusty emotions, her shock overwhelmed it, frantically signaling her brain to _fully _register what happened.

_Oh my gosh, Duncan kissed me._

Her dark eyes slowly and meekly ascended to his. His lips were formed into a smirk.

_OH MY _GOSH_, DUNCAN KISSED ME!_

"P-P-P-P-PENALTY!" Courtney squeaked out loudly. Her cheeks were embarrassingly a wild red. "Y-You kissed me! I — I don't go out kissing people, all right? This is a _huge _penalty! That means — "

"You win," Duncan finished. He licked his lips, making her feel balmy. "Don't care, actually. Go ahead, be the winner."

The burst of satisfaction didn't enter her body. Shock was still inhabiting in it, zapping her everywhere. Her thoughts were running around recklessly. Her heart was beating so fast, it was like she finished a long marathon. Her mind was the apotheosis of a devastation.

A handful of questions piled into her brain, practically exceeding the space limit. It desperately wanted to come out of her mouth, tone to the highest. But her mouth was shut tight, lips finally calming down. Her posture was frozen. Onyx eyes stayed put.

He laughed at her. He patted her head and walked away, smirking and smirking.

She cursed and followed.

* * *

_he's her sky

* * *

_

Courtney's mouth hadn't shut close ever since she stepped inside Place d'Armes Hôtel & Suites.

The hotel was beyond, _beyond _luxurious. Words just couldn't describe the elegant beauty covering every nook and cranny of the building. It was incredibly spacious. The interior was just to _die _for.

All the employees, especially the front desk receptionist, was very hospitable. At first, Courtney thought they were going to be all pompous and belittle her, criticizing eyes stabbing her everywhere. But the woman had smiled at them politely. Courtney could tell that she was thrown off by her attire, but she was glad to know that the woman didn't mention it or show that she was entirely.

Apparently they weren't going to stay at a hotel. As much as she wouldn't like to be alone in one room with Duncan — although she already _was _in his bedroom — a part of her really wanted to spend a night or two (or more) here. Without a doubt, she would feel important; she would feel sophisticated; she would feel successful; she would feel royal, a —

"Princess, a fly went in your mouth."

She closed her mouth, squealing, and then opened it again. "Ew, get it — !" She stopped. She glared at him. "You are so _humorous_."

He grinned smugly. "I'm a one of a kind, darling."

She saw that they were in front of a hotel room. Duncan banged on the door four times.

She punched his arm hard. "You moron! You can't just bang on the door as if it was _nothing_. This place is — " Once again, she couldn't find words to describe it. Really, it was difficult to. "Just … _don't _do that again."

He rolled his eyes.

The door busted open, a girl with black short layered hair, side-bangs an electric pink, showing up. She was tiny, about 4'11" or so and was wearing a body-hugging magenta T-shirt with an image of guitar. She wore black cargo shorts, loose around her thighs, stopping on top of her knees. She also donned a pair of white Converse with drawn _X_s everywhere. Her arms — wrists covered with a lot of wristbands and hairties — were crossed over her chest, blue eyes narrowed.

_"__What?" _she spat.

Duncan seized Courtney's wrist immediately and pulled her inside the room, completely and rudely ignoring the girl. They walked down the small hallway until they saw two guys playing video games, deeply engrossed, and one muscular guy on a white bed reading a magazine, chilling.

One of the guys playing video games spotted them and grinned widely. He paused the game, earning a "What the hell?" from the other, and stood up, walking to them. He put his hands in his pockets.

The guy had brown hair almost covering his eyes and two piercings: one in his upper lip and one in his right ear, a mini cross dangling from it. He wore a shirt that looked like it was written down by him, saying "Chill & Grab a Cig." He had loose jeans on, a chain hanging from the side, and some black Converse. The left side of his jeans were rolled up to the knee, showing some long socks and a scar on the knee. He had a watch on his left wrist. Clearly, to Courtney's eyes, he was a skater punk.

He laughed, appraising Duncan's wardrobe. "What the _hell_ are you wearin', dude?" he asked. "Turned over to _that _side, huh?"

Duncan smirked. "I'm never joining you on that side, Jack. Quit buggin' me 'bout it."

Jack laughed again. His eyes then slid casually over to Courtney. He raised one eyebrow, a grin crawling on his lips. He quickly looked at her, up and down. Courtney glared at him, and he chuckled when he saw that.

"New chick? Feisty one ya got here, dude." He held out his hand. "The name's Jack, dude — what's yours?"

She nodded back at him. "Courtney. Pleasure," she replied without emotion. "And I'm not a 'dude,' are we clear?"

"Uh, whatever." He regarded Duncan. "This type seems _new_, dude. She's, er, _different _than the others. Know what I'm sayin'?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Duncan winked at her.

Her nose scrunched up in repulsion. She scoffed and looked away from the two juvenile teens.

"But hey, she's got _one _hell of a body." He put his arm around her waist, fingers stroking her bare skin delicately, tantalizingly.

She grabbed his arm and pushed it away from her. She took three steps to the right and crossed her arms over her chest. Her thoughts were enraged, threads of irritation and murder sewn in all of them.

Jack's grin intensified. He nodded in agreement. "A rockin' one."

"All right!" Courtney shouted out, hands now on hips. She turned her body to the duo. "Now, are you guys done _ogling _my body so I can find out what the hell I'm doing here? Because a certain _pervert_" — she glowered at Duncan — "didn't tell me anything at all!"

"Chillax, Princess; I'm gettin' there." He took a deep breath. "Yo, guys! I have someone I'd like to introduce to you guys. She's a bit shy right now, so go easy on her, 'kay? She's a delicate little creature."

_Shy? I am _not _shy_, she protested mentally, rolling her eyes.

Neither of the other two moved a single muscle.

Duncan sighed, annoyed. "Hey, assholes! Show some damn respect and get your freakin' asses over here so you can meet Courtney!"

The muscular guy reading a magazine looked up and glared at Duncan. He sighed, as well, and closed the magazine. He literally stomped over to them. And the one playing video games paused the game he was playing, dumping the controller on the ground. He stretched his back, yawned loudly, and stood next to the built one.

"Now, gents," Duncan started. He grabbed a hold of Courtney's upper arms and pushed her forward. She could feel him close behind. He snaked his arms around her waist now, chin on left shoulder. Eyes widening, she tried to get out of his hold — she hoped her face wasn't as red as a tomato — but failed when she noticed that he wasn't willing to let go. "_This _is Courtney. Say 'Hi, Courtney.'"

The muscular one mouthed a very vulgar word to him. He groaned and looked at her. "I'm Blake but call me Skinner, m'kay? Call me Blake, and I'll — " He broke off, mumbling to himself. "Just call me Skinner, all right?"

Courtney nodded, taking in his appearance. He was a large guy, built to the max. He wore a black tight-fitting shirt with the words "Eff the Radio" and black jeans. He had a mohawk like Duncan's, though his was dark blue and tall, fanning out. Piercings were on his eyebrows, nose, lips, and ears — literally everywhere. He had a tattoo that stretched along his forearm; it looked like a dragon surrounded by will-o-wisps. He had combat boots on. He fit the description "mean to the core."

"Nice to meet you," Courtney said in a quiet voice. She was intimidated by him. He _did _look frightening.

The guy next to him stepped forward. He had a faux-hawk on. He had simple piercings on each side of his ears and a tattoo on the front of his right hand, which was a kanji sign. He wore a white short-sleeved polo, tie black and red. He had on denim jeans, torn on the knees, and black Converse. Courtney thought he was the only decent one of the bunch. Sort of.

He took her hand, and Courtney thought he was going to kiss it, being chivalrous, but he just shook it hard, her arm shaking. He let go and put on a small smile.

"Name's Ryan," he said. "And you're not my type."

_Blunt much? _"Hi, Ryan. And thanks for telling me that." _Not like I needed and wanted to _know_, anyway._

The three boys Courtney had met were actually Duncan's band mates. Now, Courtney knew he was in a band, but she never got the chance to meet them, because she was too busy, or _they _were too busy. She had heard Duncan chat with them on the phone from time to time, and he talked about them, too. Duncan was the bassist and singer/backup; Jack was the guitarist; Skinner was the lead singer; and Ryan was the drummer. But, other than the fact that they were buddies and had strange ambitions, she never knew them.

There was a time, however, when Courtney had heard the band play. It had been their _only _demo CD, and apparently Duncan had threatened a nerd to record their song for them and burn it professionally. He had persuaded her to listen to it just once, cajoling her and planting soft, shiver-causing butterfly kisses up and down her neck. She had eventually relented, listening to it.

The song had been aggressive. It had been hardcore with large amount of vulgarity, throat screams, and teen angst moving angrily through her ears. Admittedly, the beat had been quite catchy, making her tap her index finger along with it. Once she had gone past the aggressiveness and actually _listened to the song_, she had understood it perfectly.

It had been a love song.

A love song for _her_.

The song had captured every essence of their relationship, though a majority of it had been about their relationship and how real and alive it was. _"Inexplicable, get past the barrier and see the beauty. Kiss the reality and try to understand — but you can't!" _She knew what those lyrics meant: their relationship was hard to understand to most, and although they tried to explain it to the others, they couldn't ever understand — because they couldn't.

Up until now, Courtney never comprehended his music, but she knew what was underneath them all even though she pretended she didn't.

Courtney felt like the fifth wheel as the boys bonded. Duncan explained to them why he was wearing such strange attire like Courtney. Jack taunted him on how he lost such an easy game to a girl, which Courtney scoffed at, thinking how sexist that comment was. Blake, or _Skinner_, threw in some negative comments a lot, but Duncan didn't seem to be affected or cared. Ryan was the silent type, but he joined in the conversation, stating out things he wanted to point out.

She suddenly felt a pair of eyes burning uncomfortable holes in the back of her head. She glanced back and saw the girl who had opened the door staring right at her. She quickly turned away, looking out the window of the hotel, knees up against her chest.

Come to think of it, Duncan didn't introduce Courtney to her. He didn't even talk to her; he didn't even as so much as to _look _at her. She now felt this rope of tension tied between them, a rope filled with secret animosity — though she wasn't sure if the feeling was mutual — and sadness. Did they have some sort of history together?

The thought made her feel quite jealous.

Soon, they left. Even though she was bored out of her mind, time seemed to be on her side (at least for _now_) and blurred by. Duncan said his goodbyes to his fellow band mates, and he still didn't acknowledge the other girl. Courtney, being polite, said goodbye as well even to the girl, who ignored her.

As they walked along the quiet streets side-by-side, she had questions bubbling in her mind.

"Why'd you introduce me to them?" Courtney inquired, arms crossed over chest. Goosebumps trailed from her forearm all the way up. The night was breezy.

The delinquent shrugged. "Dunno," he replied. "I wasn't even planning on visiting them. The thought just came to me, 'cause I haven't seen them in a while. We haven't jammed together, too. Just felt like seeing them, I guess."

She nodded slowly. "What about the girl?"

"What girl — Jack?"

"You know what I mean, Duncan."

His teal eyes grew slightly dark, and he directed his attention to the right, shielding his grave expression.

For a few minutes, his silence matched the one surrounding them, though _his _was unnerving. She felt even colder, teeth chattering now. She wondered if something _had _happened between them, something possibly heartbreaking. Did the two used to date? Did she do something to him, or vice versa?

"That's Amy," Duncan stated lowly, "my ex-girlfriend. Also the original drummer of the band."

"Oh," was all she said. She shivered, but she wasn't sure if it was from the cold.

Sensing this, he shot out his arm, now around her waist, and pulled her to his side. He still didn't look at her, but she felt warm and thankful — not like she would tell him that. His large, warm hand sent surges of warmth and comfort throughout her body, driving away her goosebumps and the coldness torturing her body. Her posture relaxed and practically melted against his safe side. She tried not to show how comfortable she was.

"Was she your … recent one?" Courtney murmured.

He sighed. "No. She was my first."

She swallowed down something large inaudibly. She let out a wavering breath.

First girlfriends/boyfriends were commonly a life-changing part in anyone's life, no matter how old or young you were. He/She was the first person to open your eyes and show you the world. They were the ones who taught you many things about everything and introduced you to lots of obvious matters that weren't so clear then. They helped you start out the road to a new journey, a personal one that only lovers could take a walk through. They would either start it and walk by you, or suddenly leave you alone with the road suddenly serpentine. You would have to wait for another special someone to walk by you.

It was rare for your first one to be your first love. First girlfriends/boyfriends were just that. Sure they would have intimate feelings for you, but it didn't go any deeper. Once you were no longer together, for sure you'd be heartbroken, but eventually you'd get right back up, rehabilitated and ready to move on.

That wasn't possible for first loves.

Courtney would know. Duncan was her first love.

"Did something happen between the two of you … ?" She was hesitant to ask.

He chuckled coldly. "Yeah. And I broke up with her because of it." His hand slowly curled into a fist from her side. He cursed. "Okay, look — she said she loved me, and I broke up with her. Because she loved me. Does that answer your constant questions, Courtney?"

"I was just curious," she snapped.

He faced her, eyes burning with anger. "And curiosity killed the fuckin' cat, right? So, it's best if you stay outta my business. The past is the past."

What was strange was that he didn't let go of her. He only tightened his hold.

And she didn't protest.

* * *

_dim and bound to the ground

* * *

_

"Gran can move faster than you!"

"Shut it! These vines are making it difficult for me, all right?"

"Yeah, blame the freaking _vines_, Princess."

"Like _you're _of any help! All you're doing is leering at my bottom!"

"Not my fault it's just _out there_. Oh, and nice panties, babe."

"Pervert! Stop _looking_! Fall off already!"

Courtney managed to find place her right foot somewhere for leverage. She took a deep breath and lifted herself up, just a few feet closer to Duncan's bedroom window. She smiled victoriously and continued climbing.

She heard Duncan groan and mutter a heap of complaints.

"Hey, let me help you up."

She scoffed. "Thanks but no thanks. I don't need — "

A hand was under her bottom, pushing her up. And she shrieked. Emphatically so.

"Damn it, Princess!" He pushed her up higher until her hands found the ledge of the window, and she opened it, jumping inside.

As soon as she landed, Duncan appeared and jumped down, slamming the window shut. Her face was warm all over, tingling, and she stepped away from him, back of her knees hitting the edge of the bed. She pointed a finger at him accusingly, glaring very hard.

"You _touched _my butt! You put your hand _on _it! I did _not _give you — !" She ran out of words to spit out at him. She growled dangerously and stomped her left foot on the ground. "You perverted asshole! You had the audacity to just — Ugh! You're REVOL — !"

His hand covered her mouth firmly. He was close to her, face inches apart. He narrowed his eyes, warning signs shooting through hers.

"If you don't want us to get caught, then I think you should lower that tone," he whispered seriously.

She shoved his hand off, placed her hands on his chest, and pushed him away.

"I want my prize now," she declared. "I want to sleep on the bed _with you on the floor_. I want a fresh set of pajamas and clothes, as well as _underwear_, for tomorrow. But while picking out the underwear, _I _have to be present to watch you just in case you give me anything inappropriate. Mia's clothes are fine for me. I would like a toothbrush, too. You're damn lucky that's all I want."

He yawned.

"So get me pajamas and my toothbrush _now_."

He rolled his eyes and headed out the door.

She smiled complacently. It felt good to have some control. She was lacking that. And it was good that he was tending her every whim. The satisfaction of winning the juvenile game played earlier came in and filled her up. Her pride was busting with joy.

He came in with flannel pajamas that appeared rather brand new. He had a box with a new toothbrush inside, too. He thrust the items in her arms impolitely. He took off his shirt and shorts and threw them inside the hamper near the bathroom door, leaving him in his black boxers. He yawned again and jumped on the bed.

"I said _I _was sleeping on the bed," Courtney snarled, the toothbrush box in her right hand crumpling.

"Screw that. I ain't sleeping on the floor."

"It's _'am not,' _and I'm not sleeping with you!"

"We'll improvise. Now shut the hell up and change so I can sleep now."

Moaning loudly, she trudged over to the bathroom, went inside, and smashed the door shut. She furiously stripped off her clothing and put on the borrowed pajamas. They were loose around her body but were altogether adequate enough. She folded her ghastly clothes neatly and set them on top of the toilet seat. She opened the box and took out the toothbrush, which looked too generic-looking for her taste. She sighed and brushed her teeth. After that, she washed her face, wiped it on the mini towel she got, and went outside, facing her doom of a roommate/ex-boyfriend.

He was lying relaxingly on the bed, arms behind his head. His eyes journeyed towards her.

"Keep scowlin' like that and you'll have wrinkles. Beauty one-oh-whatever," he briefed her.

"Oh, and you would know that _how_?" She placed the folded clothes on his desk.

"Mia likes to tell my mom that when she gets mad. It works every time, 'cause my mom is the same as every other troublesome woman. Always worried about their appearance." He snorted.

"It's natural," Courtney defended. "Girls are like that. Even guys are, too."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't 'uh-huh' me! What, are you suddenly critical against the woman race? Ugh, you're so heartless, it's not even funny."

He laughed scathingly. "What the — ?" He sat upright and scooted down until he was sitting at the edge. "Me, heartless? You're a freakin' hypocrite, Courtney. You like to talk down on everyone as if you're _above _them! As if you're better than everyone. Newsflash, sweetheart: you're just as heartless."

Rage flared inside her. "At least I have _feelings_!"

"I'm _sure_," he said cynically.

"Who are _you _to say that I have no feelings? Yes, only a _heartless _person would say something like that so carelessly!"

"Wow, how uptight can you get, man?"

"How _insensitive _can _you _get?"

The door opened, making the enraged teens whip their heads to it, heart beating fast.

Natasha, wearing her pajama dress, was there. Her exhausted eyes widened at the sight of Courtney. She tilted her head to the side at her. She looked at Duncan.

"Duncan, who's that?" she asked cutely, tiredness woven in her tone.

Hurried footsteps came their way. "Natasha! Oh, _Natasha_! How many times do I have to tell you that you cannot just open your brother's — " Yvonne arrived at the threshold, eyes widening like Natasha's " — door … like … that? What in the name of — ?"

The red-handed couple said the same thing simultaneously:

"Oh, _shit_."

* * *

**apples**:

I love 'em. Apples & DxC.

Yum.

Ooh, _cliffhanger _…

Hey, listen to _Eat You Alive _by Limp Bizkit. It really describes how Duncan feels about Courtney. That's if, you know, you listen to this kind of, um, stuff. ^^;


	7. open up

"Mrs. Simmons, I told you — visiting hours are over. You have to go home now. I'm sorry," Nurse Cindy said for the third time.

Samantha flashed a stony look towards the irritated nurse. "I'm not finished having a conversation with — ," she spoke icily.

"I understand, but you can continue talking with your daughter tomorrow." She took out the ballpoint pen from inside her breast pocket. "Please leave."

The mother nodded grudgingly. She stood up from the chair and leaned down to her daughter's ear. Cindy heard whispers wafting out of the woman's mouth. Samantha pushed the chair back to its prior location. Her head turned back to her daughter, and she smiled weakly.

Although Cindy held a bit of resentment towards Samantha, she couldn't help but feel somewhat sympathetic towards her. She knew if she showed that she did feel sympathetic, however, Samantha wouldn't be pleased. The last thing she needed was pity from a total stranger.

Without a word or a glance, Samantha walked past Cindy sluggishly. As she past by, not a single emotion was gliding around in her eyes. Her gray orbs matched its color: dullness.

The door closed.

Now in solitude — with the exception of the comatose patient before her — she inhaled the still air tangled with pressure. Somehow, it constricted a part of her deep inside, and she stopped breathing in the air. She exhaled and began checking up on the patient.

As she checked up on the IV bag, her eyes sneakily streamed over to the patient. Despite the oxygen mask, Cindy could see her face clearly. Her tanned skin was lighter with paleness. She could tell that she was a pretty girl, but it was the type of beauty that wasn't eye-catching. It was pleasant and simple. She had a natural beauty.

She wondered what color her eyes were since she never saw them. She wondered what the girl was like, too. Was she shy? Was she pretentious?

She snapped back into focus, shaking her head as if to shake off the questions bugging her mind.

She wondered if she'd ever know.

"Why did I ever become a nurse?" Cindy mumbled to herself. She shook her head and slapped her cheeks twice, hoping to drive away the tiredness consuming her.

She completed her daily checkups and wrote down all the necessary information on the clipboard for Dr. Ramirez. After that, she let out an exhale filled with relief and started for the door.

As she was about to head out, she took one last glimpse at the unconscious girl. Her eyebrows crinkled together. She blew out a breath, muttering incoherent sentences underneath her breath. She fully exited the room, the door closing with a soft shut.

The patient's hand twitched.

* * *

_his presence beat the sun_

* * *

Wide blue eyes were fixated on the side of Courtney's skull.

Courtney's hands were clasped together, now squeezing the life out of each other. Her dark gray eyes wandered around the room, seeing absolutely nothing, because her focus was somewhere else. She had trouble resisting the yearning to bolt up from the bed, smash her ear to the door, and eavesdrop in Duncan and Yvonne's conversation.

The minute they had been caught by her, Yvonne quickly ushered Duncan out of the room, taking quick, short glances at Courtney. That left her with Natasha, who had been staring curiously at her for a long period of time. It was extremely uncomfortable.

Promptly, Courtney looked at her peripheral vision and saw that Natasha's focus was now on her legs, which were swinging back and forth. Her posture was bent forward, shoulders up just beneath her ears, and a harmonious expression was on her face.

She gazed at the door again and groaned quietly. She mimicked Natasha's position except she didn't swing her legs.

_What are they talking about? _she yelled internally.

"What's your name?" an adorable voice piped up.

The mocha-haired girl's head craned up fast, and she inclined her attention to Natasha, whose blue eyes were sparkling with purity and curiosity.

"I'm Courtney."

"Oh, I'm Natasha." She grinned toothily at her — which was ironic considering the fact she was missing two front teeth.

_Yes, I know_, she thought.

"Are you Duncan's person?"

Her brown eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Are you Duncan's person?" she repeated without impatience. "'Cause every time a girl is with Duncan, he always calls her 'his person.' I think so. I think it was the other another word; it started with a letter B! Maybe it was _beach _… "

_Duncan, you moron. _"No, actually, I dated Duncan before — which is now, though I can't really elaborate on the matter, for I have no idea what the hell is going on. I woke up on his bed, saw him shirtless, and everything went downhill from there. It's shocking to believe that I'm being so _civil _to him, because I despise his freakin' _guts_ with every fiber in my being. He kissed me, and I allowed it — but I still hate him. I think. I don't know. It's confusing; _he's _confusing.

"So, no, I'm not Duncan's _person_. I'm not like those other whores he brought in to … _play around with_. I will never, ever, _ever _be like them, nor will I _allow _myself to be like them for the likes of _him_, the jackass who killed my heart and cheated on me with the girl I thought I would never be friends with."

But she wasn't an idiot, so she didn't say that.

Slowly, she answered, "In a way … I'm Duncan's person. I'm, uh — I'm his girlfriend." She didn't know why she said that, but if she said she was his girlfriend, it would clear up some confusion and seem more feasible.

A grin rivaling the Grinch's spread out on her small face. "That's cool!" But then she pouted. "But … Duncan never told me he had a very, very pretty person."

"Girlfriend," Courtney corrected, smiling slightly. "And thank you."

The four-year-old giggled adorably. "Oh! Right!" She giggled again. "Oh, oh, oh! And you're very welcome, Courty!"

"Courty" didn't bother amending her mistake. She was surprised to see that she was having a conversation with a little kid — willingly, no less. She had interacted with children around her age and younger, but that was when she volunteered to help out at a daycare for extra credit. Little kids irked her to no end, always whining if they didn't get what they wanted and creating ounces of messes. But Natasha was so innocent and precious that she couldn't help it.

Natasha began talking animatedly about what she liked to do in her spare time. Courtney listened attentively, though she took advantage of this time to observe her appearance. Back then, when she had visited, she hadn't paid any attention whatsoever to the little girl. She had only smiled politely and instantly struck a conversation with Duncan's parents.

Duncan's little sister had extremely long hair. It cascaded down her back — she pictured a black waterfall shimmering from the moonlight beautifully — in a straight motion, messily resting on the bed, her lap, and over her shoulders. She had beautiful teal eyes just like Duncan's, but Courtney thought while Duncan's glinted with rebelliousness and a knowing look, Natasha's glowed with, as said earlier, innocence and something genuine. She had a beauty mark just below the corner of her right eye. She was very small in stature.

A pang of guilt bothered her. Why did it take her only _now _to notice this? Why couldn't she take the time to actually _see _everything?

The carved-up door opened and in came Yvonne with Duncan in tow, a neutral expression on. Yvonne stopped walking until she was right in front of Courtney. Duncan moved past her, sending an inconspicuous wink towards the former C.I.T., lifted up Natasha — who squealed ear-piercingly — and sat down, Natasha on his lap comfortably.

The sight was so foreign to her, Duncan being all _brotherly_.

Yvonne inhaled deeply and exhaled. She bit her lip, foot tapping on the floor lightly. She furtively looked at Courtney who returned the gaze calmly, but in the inside, she was panicking and wondering what she was thinking.

"C'mon, the suspense is killing me!" Duncan joked.

Yvonne sent him a glare.

Courtney couldn't take it anymore. She didn't like the asphyxiating silence. "So, what're you going to do?" she asked.

The nanny rubbed her temples, yawning. "Well, this is a lot to take in," she said, wrinkles showing dominantly.

Duncan snorted. "You're making it seem like I knocked her up."

"Duncan!" Yvonne and Courtney scolded simultaneously, but the latter's tone was sharper.

Yvonne then glanced at the girl again, a smile making its way on her lips. She eyed her penetratingly; it was like she was searching deeply inside of her system or her _soul_. She let out a small laugh, and a big smile appeared, as well as her laugh lines.

"Despite all of this," she informed her, "I like you, sweetie. I have a feeling that you can _control _this unbearable piece of handsome right here." She shook her head. "This boy doesn't know how to follow the rules or follow one simple task! It's like he needs a 24/7 surveillance camera installed everywhere he goes just to keep a lookout on him!"

Duncan winked at her. "You know you love me, Vonne."

She smiled at him.

Natasha peered up at him, grinning widely. "_I_ love you, Duncan!" she exclaimed.

He chuckled and gently gave his little sister a noogie on the head. A soft look flitted across his features, making Courtney want to smile at the view. "Love you, too, midget."

She giggled, and then she looked at Courtney. She pointed at her. "Your girlfriend's super-duper pretty, too! Do you love _her_?"

A sly look came upon his face. He looked over at Courtney, a smirk creeping on his lips.

Knowing Natasha wasn't looking her way, Courtney slowly narrowed her eyes at him threateningly.

"Courtney, my girlfriend?" he stalled. "Do I love her? Is that what you are asking, little sister? If I love this minx right here?" He nodded his head to Courtney.

_Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you_, the aforementioned minx chanted in her head.

"Well … ?" Natasha pressed, voice growing antsy.

"Do I love … Courtney?" He pursed his lips, staring right at her face.

Anxiousness flew inside of her. She didn't understand why she _was _feeling anxious over a question that shouldn't be asked. They weren't _together _— not anymore but not yet _here _—and she was content with that. It wasn't like she still had any leftover feelings for him. It was hard to since this Duncan was different than the one she was accustomed to. How could she feel _anything _for him, then?

But she speculated what his answer might be. What did _he _feel for her? He had kissed her earlier, and she knew for a fact that he didn't just give kisses away. His kisses always meant something — to _her_, anyways. He wouldn't just kiss her unless he wanted to (which was, like, 98% of the time), needed to, couldn't help it (which was, _again_, 98% of the time), did it to comfort her; annoy the hell out of her; and so on and so forth. There were a plethora of reasons on why he would kiss her out of nowhere.

_Everything _people did had its reasons — some obvious and some clandestine.

Finally, Duncan shrugged. "I don't know," he replied, tone unknown to her ears.

Why did it feel like her heart clenched so tightly when he said that?

As if she were sensing the tight feeling in the room, Yvonne laughed shortly and smiled hugely. She grabbed Natasha's hand gently and pulled her down from Duncan's lap.

"Well, this little bug needs to go to sleep," she told them. "Heaven knows why she suddenly woke up at two in the morning. Her sleeping patterns are bizarre if you ask me."

She turned to Courtney, still smiling.

"And, dear, I won't ask any further on why you're staying over at Duncan's room. You're his girlfriend, and there must be something going on that I have no business in whatsoever, hm? Just make sure you fix whatever you need to fix up _soon _before your parents call the cops — which might very well be _Duncan's parents_, and _that'll _combine in with some upcoming conflicts." She _tsk_ed three times. "Worry not, though, Courtney — mum's the word."

Natasha made an action of sealing her lips, locking it, and pocketing the key. She nodded and grinned brightly. Her eyes widened, blue and green, and she shut her mouth close. She retained a pretty smile.

Courtney tried her best not to blurt out that she wasn't his girlfriend. She didn't want to be, not now, not _ever_. "Thank you very much, Yvonne, Natasha," she said graciously. "This means so much."

Duncan scooted over to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. She felt like pushing him off the bed. "Yeah, uh, thanks. Hey, can you bring up some food for us? I'm freakin' _starving_, man."

"What's the magic word, mister?" Natasha demanded; all of a sudden, she sounded vehement.

He ignored her.

Yvonne sent him a warning glance.

He sighed irritably. "Please?" he added dully.

Natasha smiled smugly to herself while Yvonne nodded in approval. They both left, Natasha whispering giddily to Yvonne and sneaking conspicuous glances to the "couple" sitting on the bed along the way.

As soon as the door closed, Duncan let out a slight chuckle and Courtney blew out a huge breath. He took his arm off of her. He nudged her with his elbow two times and pinched her side. He was smirking profoundly.

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"Shut it! I had to think of _something_."

He fell back on the bed nonchalantly. Courtney twisted around from her position to interact with him properly. His arms were behind the back of his head, and he stared relaxingly at the ceiling. Without thinking, she fell back, too, joining him. She rested by him, hands on her abdomen. He faced her, waggling his unibrow.

"Ooh, implyin' something' there?"

"If you mean I will personally suffocate you with a pillow, then you're right." She sent him a sweetly wicked smile.

"Pfft! That's freakin' _twisted _right there." His fingers temptingly stroked the front of her hand. "But I know you want some of me. Or _all _of me. Not complainin' there, 'cause … _I want you_."

Courtney tried her hardest not to shiver in temptation. She also tried to ignore the alluring touching her with his eyes. She narrowed _her _eyes at him hazardously and smacked his hand away from her. In the process, she scooted away from.

"What was that kiss for?" she demanded.

He grinned cheekily. "For you."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Charming. Now, _really_, tell me what that kiss was for. You don't just kiss people for no apparent reason, you know. You always have a reason. Hell, you always have a reason for _everything _you do, _everything _you say." She thought about his unfaithful action during Total Drama World Tour. She inwardly winced and kicked away the memory, that heartbreaking memory.

"It's kinda weird for you to know a lot about me. And hey, everyone does something for a reason. We don't just do things and don't know why. Reasons are natural, Princess." A serious look was taking its place on his normally rebellious ones. "Maybe I kissed you, because I wanted to. Obviously I'm attracted to you. Attraction can do strange things to people."

"Oh, so your attraction to Gwen made you suck face with her, then," she spat coldly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Gwen? Who's Gwen?"

_Crap__. _When Courtney remembered that awful memory, lingering traces of rage rose up inside her being. It occurred every time the memory mischievously entered her thoughts. So with that being said, she may or may not snap at you for no reason (but for this circumstance, the reason was the memory) or suddenly be all dramatic. It just came out, and it was hard to stop it. Admittedly, her anger was hard to control.

She averted his questioning gaze. "No one. She's _nothing_." Her emphasis on the last word was accidentally spat out.

He pressed on. "Doesn't seem like 'nothing.' Who is she?" He paused. "Wait, do I know her? Did I date her or something?"

"I can't answer your questions, because she's _nothing_, all right? Explaining something that is _nothing _shouldn't be explained at all. So forget it, and let's just change the topic already." She certainly didn't want to discuss about that _slut_.

A scowl was now plainly on his features. "You know, you like to avoid some questions a lot. I think it's time you did your answering. Like who the hell is Gwen and what relationship I have or _had _with her."

She clenched her teeth. "I told you," she spoke between them, "she is _nothing_! She is no-_thing_! _Nothing!_"

"She sure is something if you keep having that nasty tone on."

She sat up quickly, an agonizing vertigo circling around her head. She shook it off. "Fine, you want to know who she is? She's just a _slut_, nothing more but for sure something _less_," she sneered. She visioned a picture of the Goth freak's face and darts all over it.

He joined her position. "What, you guys like mortal enemies or something? Is she _really _a slut?"

"To me, she _is_."

"So she's not."

Even when he didn't know her _now_, he defended her. It angered her even more. "Of course you'd defend her! You're with her now! She's all you care about now! I don't know what you see in that trashy Goth, so I'll assume that you are _blind_! Your eyes are clouded by the lust over her breasts! Because everything you'd _fuck _has to come with breasts, right?"

He looked mad now. "What the fuck are you — ?"

She held up a tense finger. "No! I'm not finished! Tell me, what _is _it about her that you like? That made you throw me away so coldly? Was it because you two have more in common? Was it because you get along with her better than we do? Was it because she understands you more? Was it because she's _prettier_? Was it because she's _better than me_?" Her tone kept on escalating and escalating. "What made you kiss that whore of a Goth, huh, Duncan? What made you like her? How the hell was she better than me? _How?_ What made you stop loving — ?"

Realization dawned on her face. She couldn't believe she lashed out on Duncan about something that _never happened yet_. He didn't even know what the heck she was yelling about. He didn't deserve it yet. She was being stupid, incredibly so.

Why did she yell the words, the sentences, she so desperately wanted to yell at the two-timing asshole at _him_, the genuine version she had fallen in love with?

_Because he's the only one I can open up to. Because I can only open up to the one I fell in love with, not the jerk who's busy playing with Goth sluts. _

"I cheated on you."

Her eyes didn't widen. She didn't feel a zap of shock. She was numb to the core.

He faced down, eyes solemn and dark.

Slowly, the words she really, really, _really _wanted to ask him came pouring out: "Why would you do that to me?"

The same reply hit her in the face. "I'm sorry." He whispered it so softly.

Someone knocked on the door two times. "Duncan, Courtney," Yvonne said from behind. "I've heated up some food for you both. It's only one plate, because I need to wash the dishes again and, Duncan, your parents are here, eating." Her tone lowered down, but Courtney could still hear her. "So there was only one plate left … Duncan? Courtney? I'm coming in now."

Neither of the two moved a single muscle when she entered the room, holding a plate of steaming hot food. She saw the two on the bed, and her cheeks were painted a shade of red. She let out a quick apology and set the plate on top of Duncan's desk. Hastily, she exited the room.

Courtney didn't move from her spot, but Duncan got off the bed and sauntered over to his desk. He pushed his computer chair to the bed. He grabbed the plate and sat down on the chair. He placed the plate on the bed carefully. He opened the folded napkin, which contained two pairs of spoons and forks. He took one pair and began picking at his food.

"You want some? Yvonne made her special chicken stir-fry," he said, not a glance of teal directed her way.

Her nostrils were suddenly embraced by the sweet, scrumptious air coming from the stir-fry. A growl came from her stomach, making her feel warm in the face. She spotted a slight quirk at the edges of Duncan's lips and scowled. She slowly got off the bed so the plate wouldn't spill on it. She walked over to him and leaned down, inhaling the delectable aroma. Duncan held up the other set of utensils, and Courtney received it, the tips of her fingers brushing the front of his hand.

At first, she was hesitant. She wasn't sure if she should just be devouring the food. It was Duncan's own, anyway. But Yvonne brought another pair of utensils for her, so she _could _eat it.

She internally scolded herself for being so doubtful. This wasn't like her.

She held her fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. She brought it to her mouth. Her taste buds activated, and she really wanted to moan out in utter delight. Eagerly, she stabbed another piece along with some sliced green peppers and ate it. The moan was crawling up her throat, tempting her and tempting to just have bit of the sound sneak out.

_Oh my goodness, this tastes so delicious! Oh my gosh! Mmmm, it has _just _the right amount of — oh _gosh_, this is — ohhhhhhh, yeah. I'm in heaven. I give this dish ten stars! _Courtney prattled on in her mind.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were making love to Yvonne's stir-fry," came an amused remark.

Courtney swallowed audibly and ate some more. "Oh, shush," she snapped after she swallowed again. "This stir-fry is just … _divine_. It's like I'm eating at a high-class restaurant. Yvonne should definitely own a restaurant. Customers would be piling in non-stop!"

"Yvonne used to be a chef when she was younger," Duncan stated out of the blue. He popped a piece of cabbage in his mouth.

She looked at him. "Why did she quit?"

"She preferred taking care of children. She loved cooking, but I guess her love for little brats beat it. One day, she'll open up her own daycare. But for now … " — he winked at her, smirking — "she's stuck with us."

_And Lord help her_, Courtney thought.

After they were both done eating, Courtney went to brush her teeth again. (It was a bad idea to eat after you just recently brushed your teeth; it'll taste revolting at first.) When she was done, she headed towards the bed Duncan was _still _occupying. She glared.

"Go brush your teeth!" she ordered. "And _I'm _sleeping there, remember?"

His eyes stayed close. "Uh-huh," he merely replied.

Her warning tone came out. "Duncan … "

He groaned and got off, sluggishly walking to the bathroom. "All right, all right — quit your bitchin'."

She punched his arm when he passed by.

She then turned to the bed. A yawn rose up her throat and came out loudly. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. She wiped them off with the sleeve of the flannels she was donning. She stretched her arms. Afterwards, she climbed onto the bed and nestled into the soft blanket. She sat upright and twisted around. She grabbed the pillow, which smelled _a lot _like Duncan, and fluffed it four times. She set it back in place and lied down. She sighed contentedly.

Duncan came out of the bathroom with toothpaste foam around his mouth. He saw her relaxing on the bed and rolled his eyes. He retreated back inside.

While she waited for him to finish up, which shouldn't take long, she contemplated on the the past events that had occurred. She became aware of so many aspects, found out about the little things her eyes usually strayed away from, and got to know Duncan more and more as the time went by. She had met and got acquainted with his bandmates. She actually had had a conversation, though short, with Natasha when she wouldn't if she wasn't in this bizarre situation.

Her reverie was interrupted at the sound of the bathroom door closing.

She opened her eyes — she didn't realize that they were closed — and watched Duncan. He walked over to the futon splayed messily on the ground. He bent down, groaning and muttering to himself, and organized the futon.

"Sleep with me."

Why the hell did she say that? And it wasn't even a suggestion; it sounded more like a demand, which Courtney was actually used to saying.

He regarded her, teal eyes big. She was sure she was blushing madly, enough to put tomatoes to shame. Then, he smirked rather profoundly.

"I knew you would give in soon," he said. He got onto the bed and crawled until he was incredibly close to her body. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and placed his mouth against her ear, hot breath tingling it. "Sucks 'cause apparently _someone _threw away my handy little condom that was hidden in my medicine cabinet."

"I didn't throw it away. I _flung _it away."

"Oh, so you admit it?"

She pushed him away and pulled her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on them. Her onyxes trailed over to him gradually, curiosity and seriousness mixing together.

"Tell me about Amy," Courtney whispered. "I want to know about her."

A dark look appeared on his features. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why? You don't tell me anything."

She sighed. "I'll tell you what you want to know about whatever and _who_ever, all right? But that's only if you complete your end of the bargain. It's only fair."

He stared at her intently. It seemed to be as if he was debating on whether or not he should agree to this bargain of hers. He let out a low breath and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. He lifted his head up towards the ceiling, focusing his attention on it.

"What do you wanna know?"

Duncan told her how he and Amy met, which was through Jake. Before Rick had joined the band, Amy had been the band's drummer. Apparently she had been a really good drummer, and her drumming skills had attracted Duncan greatly. The two had hit if off after they had performed at a club. He had enjoyed his time with her and had gotten along with her pretty well.

But Duncan had started to feel slightly uncomfortable when Amy had gotten all clingy and jealous. He had hated that; clingy, jealous girls was a major turn-off for him. At first, he had shrugged it off — it had been a normal emotion for him. Soon, whenever he would interact with a female, she would snap and snap like a crazy bitch. One time, he had been on the phone with someone, and she had gotten all furious with him. That _someone _had been his freakin' _cousin_.

So when Amy had said "I love you" to him, _Duncan _had reached his breaking point. He had told her off, yelling how she could be so jealous and so annoying. And of course, Amy had taken it the wrong way.

They never became friends.

Amy still hung out with the other band members, because she was friends with them. From time to time, she would try to strike a conversation with Duncan, but he'd always ignore her.

The duo lay on the bed in silence, completely at ease. Duncan was now situated on the bed, head on pillow, arms behind it. Courtney was lying beside him on her side. If she were to move a couple of inches more to her right, she would be cuddling with him — which she wouldn't _dare _do.

"So I used to date this Gwen chick, huh?" Duncan mused quietly.

Hearing him utter her name brought a painful tug to her heart.

"Yes, you _do_," Courtney murmured.

"Do?"

"You're dating her now."

"I don't understand. Why the hell would I cheat on you? I … " He trailed off. "Courtney, I may do a lot of illegal things and say pretty heartless shit, but … man, I don't cheat. I was always against that; it's a freaking messed up thing to do to someone."

She stifled the tears threatening to come out. "I don't know, Duncan. Why would you? Why would you, huh? You never told me. You never gave me a proper explanation … You never … " An insubordinate tear poured down. _"Crap." _She wiped it off roughly.

He was quiet for a moment until: "Honestly," he began, "I don't see why I would even _think _about cheating on you."

The C.I.T. felt his warm hand rub her arm soothingly, fingertips leaving goosebumps over her skin.

"You may be an uptight pain in the ass, but you're a good person. You can take care of yourself. You're determined. And I gotta admit, Princess … You sure can kick some serious ass." He squeezed her arm. "I dig that."

_Duncan, I miss you_, she mentally whispered.

"Courtney, you're a one of a kind for _real_."

_I miss you so much._

She was now cuddling with him.

She didn't mind.

**TBC –**

_

* * *

_

**jysk**:

we all miss him, courtney. we all do.

& it's almost finished, guys.

'cause i gots a new storeh in mind ~


	8. the true meaning

Courtney felt light.

As she spent quality time with Duncan, she was feeling just that — light. She realized she smiled more often and laughed loudly without shame. She wasn't that aware of the people around her while she was in public with Duncan. She rarely belittled anything around her and grew to think better of everything, especially people, around her.

She remembered feeling this way when she had dated Duncan. After Total Drama Island, she had become inseparable with him. Despite the huge distance, they had managed to keep contact; no suspicions had been floating in between, torturing them. She had loosened up (though only _quite _— she wouldn't be _Courtney _if she hadn't retained her uptight quality) and had been dragged into his shenanigans from time to time. She had felt freedom — pure freedom.

But of course, her freedom didn't last.

She didn't know what to think of her relationship with him now, though. Although she was comfortable with his intimate touches — some tempting, some gentle, and most playful — she knew without a doubt that they weren't _together_. He hadn't asked her; she never brought it up. Maybe it was because he was okay with what they were doing, with the status of their "relationship." But Courtney wanted a clear knowing of what their "relationship" was. Were they friends, good friends, intimate friends, or boyfriend/girlfriend?

Even if she swam in the River of Denial, she couldn't deny the fact that she desperately, desperately wanted the latter so, so terribly.

So she brought it up.

"What do you want us to be, then?" Duncan asked as he browsed through a car magazine. He was relaxing on his bed, propped up on his side.

Courtney was lying on her stomach, hands flat underneath her chin. She was right beside him.

"Well, actually, what do you feel about me?" she inquired curiously. Come to think of it, she never knew just _what _were Duncan's feelings towards her.

He continued looking through the magazine. She could tell that his teal eyes weren't focused on it, though.

"Do you … do you _like _me?" she pressed on. She laid her left cheek on her hands, regarding him with her dark eyes.

"Yeah, I guess … "

She wasn't satisfied with that response. "You _guess_? Duncan, that's not a proper answer. It's either yes or no, all right? So, do you like me or not?"

This time, he looked at her. "Do you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I asked you first. Stop avoiding the question and answer already."

Duncan wasn't one to beat around the bush. Courtney knew that he was brutally honest and would cut to the chase. At least, while she had been with him, he had been. She still didn't know that much about _this _Duncan, but she hoped they were the same. She hoped their reactions and mentality were the same.

He sighed exasperatedly and closed the magazine. He regarded her with lazy, lazy eyes. As his eyes pierced through hers, she was amazed on how … _teal _they were. She could see blue and green mixed together, creating a beautiful eye color. It didn't matter how he used those eyes — for flirting, glaring, narrowing, closing and opening, and so on — because no matter what, those teal eyes would always maintain its beautiful nature.

And she would never, ever, _ever _tell him that.

"Isn't it obvious? I _do _like you," he stated so casually. It was as if he was just saying he liked her hair or clothes. His voice was too … careless. He was just saying words she wanted to hear.

She sat up quickly, a glower coming about. "You don't sound like you do. Are you being honest with me? Or are you just saying sentences to shut me up?"

"What, do you need me to kiss you?" He seized her arm and yanked it down, making her topple over him. He made a motion to kiss her.

Seeing this, her eyes widened, and she forced herself to fall on his side. He heard him grunt. She smacked his stomach — she ignored the feel of his abs; curse him for wearing a thin T-shirt — and then groaned loudly.

"That's not what I meant!" Courtney cried angrily. "You can't just kiss me whenever you want to anymore! We're not a couple, you know! And you didn't even _properly answer me_! I — I need to _know _that you feel that way about me! You can't just spit out words and sentences, expecting me to believe them! I need to hear honesty! I just … I just need to _know_ … " She swore underneath her breath as soon as she realized that she was sounding so defenseless.

Duncan sighed yet again. "Princess, I like you. What more do I have to do to make you understand that I do? Isn't it enough for me to actually _say _it?"

_It used to be. Now … after everything that had happened, it's … it's different now_, she thought sadly. "Never mind," she muttered. "I was just expecting too much from you." She got up off the bed and started heading to the bathroom.

She heard Duncan groan. "Aw, c'mon, babe. You know I — Hey, don't be like that!"

She slammed the door shut and locked it afterwards. She huffed and stomped over to the toilet and sat down on the seat. She placed her elbows on her knees and rested her cheeks on her hands, eyebrows furrowed heavily.

Duncan was an idiot. No. He was _the _idiot. He was the most idiotic idiot in the entire idiotic population of idiocy in this godforsaken world of idiots. He was the idiot of all idiots, put simply.

Yes, she expected something … _more _from this Duncan in particular. She wanted him to say something that would make her feel okay about what was happening, about what she was _feeling_. She wanted him to say something completely Duncan-like but incredibly sweet and touching.

It would've been somewhat all right if he told her he liked her in that manner if it were back then. (Technically, it was.) But it was different now. In her heart, everything was different. She couldn't easily trust him, and she couldn't easily trust her feelings towards him. These feelings for him might be remaining emotions for this soft criminal.

Maybe she herself was the idiot. For being with him. For thinking that he would be different. For forgetting the fact that she was in an alternate universe. For being pathetic. For being naïve. For staying in love with the boy who broke her heart.

A knock startled her jostling thoughts.

"Princess?"

Ugh. Courtney hated how her heart swelled at the affectionate nickname.

"Go _away_," she barked.

"Princeeeeeess," Duncan groaned. "Come out already. I'm sorry. I'll answer you _properly_, okay?"

She wanted to hold a grudge against him for five more minutes (perhaps more), but apparently a certain moron wasn't going to allow her that privilege.

She _was_ being a little overly-dramatic over this situation. It wasn't like she was going to give him the satisfaction by admitting that, though.

"Babe, are you moping or taking a shit?"

Courtney turned red. She got up off the seat and marched straight to the door, angry steps reverberating in the compact bathroom. She banged on the door once.

"Shut up!"

"So it's true?"

She clenched her teeth so hard; it almost felt like they were going to shatter by the intense force. She seized the doorknob roughly and opened it.

Duncan, leaning on the door by his side, stumbled and fell on her. She grabbed a hold of his broad shoulders and pushed him away from her as if he were pest. Eyes like a pair of blizzards, she regarded him reluctantly, arms crossed over her chest.

Seeing this, he sighed. He walked over to her. She stepped away from him. He rolled his eyes and continued walking to her. He leaned around her and shut the bathroom door close. He moved even closer to her, forcing her back to hit the door.

He stared in her eyes.

Did he see? Did he see beneath all the anger and iciness the hurt and vulnerability hiding very discreetly, begging to come out? Did he see how much she wanted him, needed him? Did he see how much she wanted to pour out her worries and pain to feel a sense of relief even if it was just for a fleeting moment? Did he see how much she … loved him?

_See it, Duncan. Please see it_, she said so softly, internally.

Then, he grabbed her arms and uncrossed them gently and slowly. His eyes were still trained on hers. His hands slid down her arms, stopping at her hands. He locked his fingers with hers almost perfectly — his hands were too large and hers were too small — but she didn't mind. And then, expecting this, he kissed her.

Kissing Duncan allowed an explosion of memories and feelings happen. She remembered how he kissed — his lips moved well with her mouth, and she could feel the roughness and urgency with them, too. Although he was an inner softie, roughness was also in his nature. Of course she didn't care, because it was in her nature, as well, something she was too ashamed to confess. However, her actions didn't seem to care at the moment — or at all.

Courtney realized that his kissing never changed; it was always the same — skilled and slightly rough but at the same time, delicate and … well, amazing. It was hard to explain his style of kissing. Now, she didn't have much to compare to since she had only two boyfriends before him and they weren't anything worth mentioning. But she knew that Duncan kissed her as if she meant something grand.

She wasn't sure if the other girls he kissed felt the same way and thought the same way, but right now, she didn't give a damn.

The somewhat gentle kissing wasn't Courtney's style. She unlocked her fingers from his and wounded her arms around his neck, careful of the spikes from his dog collar. She pulled him down, so she could kiss him properly. She didn't like the fact that _he _was doing all the work, and _she _was the one who was getting affected. She wanted him to be all flustered. Since he didn't know her yet, that automatically stated that he didn't know how she was when they were making out.

She slid her right hand up, fingers fanned out, and forced him to bend his head sideways. She wanted more, more, more, and _more_. Her eyes were tempted to open and see if he was indeed surprised by her sudden actions. She was too into the moment, though.

She felt him accepting the sudden passion she was bringing in. Abruptly, she was squished against him and the door. His body was all up on her. Feeling him so close made her feel strangely wild. It was like a herd of bustling emotions boiling intensely with lust, want, and need. The emotions joined forces hurriedly and affected her hormones.

He grasped her thighs roughly and hoisted them around his waist, using the wall as leverage. She tightened her legs mechanically. She didn't care that it was inappropriate. She just wanted him _closer _and _closer_.

And then — _bam_, they were on the bed. He pulled her on top of him, legs tangling and caressing each other. Every hand was moving, stroking, pulling, and gripping. Their lips never — not even _once _— strayed away from its kiss. Both stayed mashed together, tongues swirling around the other.

Damn.

Damn it.

Damn _it_.

Courtney hated how they were human beings. They were human beings who breathed in air; therefore, without air, they would die.

The duo pulled away, panting for air. Cheeks were flushed with heat and excitement. Lust flooded their eyes, alleviating for the moment. Lips were inflamed. Clothes were wrinkled. Feelings were like fireworks.

Duncan grinned. "If that's how it's gonna be when we make out, I think I know how you'll be when we have sex," he remarked. An untamed, ravenous look came about as he looked at her.

At those eyes and that remark, Courtney felt warm. She pushed herself up off him and sat upright. She smoothed down her mocha locks, hands shaking.

He raised an eyebrow. "You all right there?"

She nodded vigorously. She cursed herself mentally for being so jittery. "I'm fine."

"You sure? You look pretty jumpy."

_Ugh, great. _"I am _fine_, Duncan."

He stared at her for a moment before a smirk broke out of his handsome face.

"Hey, while we dated, did we ever have sex?"

She blushed madly. "That — That's none of your damn business!"

"Psh, how's that not any of my damn business?"

"It's different!" She faced away from him, attempting to hide how red she looked.

"Seeing how red you are tells me that we did."

They did, though. Courtney and Duncan had sex. It was startling and bewildering — Courtney definitely seemed like the type who would wait after marriage. It was part of her morals. She advocated abstinence, because it was obviously the right decision to make.

But she had sex with Duncan. That was it.

And he was her first.

Duncan smirked. She could easily identify the smugness swirling around his eyes. "So, how was it?" he inquired devilishly. "Did I rock your world or what?"

She scoffed and then glowered. "You sound as if you knew how it was," she said, refusing to answer his obscene questions.

"Technically, I was."

"But you _weren't_."

He situated himself until he was sitting right in front of her. Her legs were pulled upwards, arms wrapped around them. His legs were spread around her. It was like an indirect hug. She felt encompassed with his warmth, scent, and presence.

His face looked so smug as if he won the lottery. He didn't know what she felt and what he felt while they did it. He didn't know the soothing, fervent ambience flying everywhere in her bedroom. He didn't know that it was the most unforgettable night of her life. He didn't know. He didn't know. _He didn't know._

Onyxes flashed suddenly to him. She clutched his shoulders and looked straight through his orbs. Her thin eyebrows furrowed down deeply. Her eyes crinkled upwards, a powerful emotion shining and shining.

"You were my first," she blurted out, a voice no more than a whisper.

She gauged his reaction as soon as she said that. The smugness disintegrated. A blank expression came. She was still staring directly through his eyes, and he was doing the same. Unconsciously, her grip on his shoulders tightened little by little as the seconds passed by. Liquid was about to prod at her eyelids, but she forcibly pushed them back. She hated crying. She didn't want to cry.

Then, Duncan broke the long-lasting gaze and looked down. His head dipped down low. His breathing was calm; he himself seemed calm. But Courtney could see how tense he looked. She stayed patient seeing how he was waiting for this newfound information to sink in.

"Fuck, Courtney," he hissed.

She bit her lip hard. An apprehensive feeling started to torment her heart.

"You … were a virgin," he started whispering. "You were a virgin. I can't believe I even — I allowed — What the hell was I — Courtney!" He snapped his head upwards, eyes wide with perplexity and shock.

She wanted to tear her eyes away from him, but she couldn't even do anything.

"I don't have sex with virgins. I don't. I'm against that. I don't like taking away something that can never come back. I just can't. It's not something that I would — I _can't_." His tone was dripping heavily with anxiety and shocks enough to electrocute someone to death. "Shit, I even promised my freakin' _mom _that I wouldn't ever screw a virgin."

A strong wind of irritation hit her. "You didn't have sex with me _yet_, Duncan," she snapped. _He's making it seem as if … as if he doesn't _want _to have sex with me._

He glared at her. "It's gonna happen. Now that you told me, it's gonna happen." He hesitated. "Were we _that _serious? Were we, Courtney? Seeing how I actually had sex with you and it was your first time, we must've been extremely serious."

She shouldn't have told him. She shouldn't have told him anything. She shouldn't have done this. She shouldn't have let her feelings on the loose so thoughtlessly. She should've thought this through. She should've learned from her mistakes. She should've kept on pushing him away, hurting him and hurting him. She should've — She should've — She should've —

A tear slid down her cheek.

She should've never loved him.

"I never would've had sex with you if you never made me fall in love with you," she said coldly. "Our _relationship _was because of you! You pursued me! You never left me alone! You constantly irritated me to no end! You made me feel emotions I have _never _experienced! You made me love you! _You _did everything! Everything's your entire fault!"

Duncan placed his hands on hers, attempting to calm her down. Although he was still shocked and confused, concern flooded his eyes now. "All right, Princess, shh, shh. Calm — "

"If you never made me love you, I would've never gotten so _insecure_! It's your fault that I started feeling these horrible emotions! I got jealous by the fact that you have so much in common with Gwen! And that was because of you! I joined Total Drama Action for _you_! I tried to win for _you_! I became such a bitch; Heather suddenly seems so _kind _now! I became a bitch for _you_! I desperately tried to look for the flaws in our relationship for _you_! I tried to find out what was wrong with _me_! You made _me _feel like shit, Duncan! So don't go blaming everything on me!" She stopped, breathing heavily.

He was silent. He merely watched and listened. His hands were around hers still.

She wasn't done. "You wanted to have sex with me; I wanted to have sex with you. That night was special to me, because I did with someone I loved. Do you get that, Duncan? I _loved _you. And I still do! I still fucking _love you_! And I hate it! You know why? Because I shouldn't! I shouldn't love the guy who _cheated_ on me, _killed_ my heart, and acted as if he didn't know me afterwards! You treated me so horribly! If I had done something wrong, consult with me! If you wanted to kiss Gwen and go out with her, then break up with me first! You're not stupid, Duncan! You aren't! You are — !" She started sobbing hard and fast. Her head dropped, eyes staring at the blurred designs of the bed. She didn't want to talk anymore.

Was she that horrible of a person? Did she ever do something so sinful that she deserved these agonizing emotions? She wanted to know why, why, _why _she was experiencing such tragic events.

Unnoticeably, his strong arms snaked around her trembling form. He gathered her in his arms, and she allowed it.

She just yelled at him so cruelly and honestly, and here she was, allowing him to be so intimate with her. She was such a hypocrite. She was so pathetic. Apparently she was that unloved that she needed some sort of comfort from her ex-boyfriend. She didn't know what to think of herself. What had she become?

"Princess," Duncan murmured softly in her ear. Hearing her nickname being uttered by his rare gentle tone caused a waterfall of salty sadness.

Courtney couldn't take it anymore. She was tired of hiding her true feelings and actions. She brought her arms up and embraced him, holding onto him so desperately.

"God, Duncan," she whimpered quietly. "I love you _so _much."

He tightened his hold on her and just held her.

"Princess … I wish I knew if I loved you back."

It hurt her even more, but the fact that he was truthful kept her from punching him.

* * *

_he makes her breathe_

* * *

"Did they find out that I was staying in Duncan's bedroom?"

Yvonne stroked Courtney's hair affectionately. She planted an assuring smile on her face, but Courtney could see that it was forced. "No, they just need to talk to him, sweetie," she replied.

Courtney glimpsed anxiously at the door. Duncan's mom had come in the room, but luckily, Courtney was in the bathroom, washing up. From the tone of his mom's voice, the situation seemed pretty somber. When she had exited the bathroom, he had gone downstairs. Yvonne immediately had entered the room, keeping her company.

"But, honestly, dear," Yvonne began, a worried look appeared in her exhausted eyes, "if they _did_ find out … it wouldn't even matter anymore."

That made Courtney panic slightly. What was going on? "Why, what happened?"

The nanny seemed reluctant to tell her. Her smile broadened, looking even more artificial. "Don't worry, it's probably some foolish action Duncan has done yet again. Nothing major, I'm sure."

But Duncan hadn't done anything — at least that was what she thought. He had been spending most of his time with her, and the other majority would be at school. He didn't go out with his friends or meet up with his band mates. He ... was with her the entire time.

Realization dawned on her face. She didn't notice how he was with her _all the time_. It was actually flattering and sweet of him. He always talked about how she was boring and uptight, but look at him — he wasted time with her uptightness instead of going out and getting messed up.

If it weren't for the grave air, she would've grinned smugly at that.

And then, it all happened so fast. Yvonne quickly apologized and shoved Courtney roughly inside Duncan's closet. She heard the bedroom door open, and, through the opening of the closet, in came Duncan and his parents. His mom looked worried, her age appearing greatly. His dad seemed upset, disappointed, and angry, which wasn't surprising on a normal day, but everything was different now. Duncan had an unidentifiable expression on his face.

"Search every nook and cranny, Cathy," his dad ordered firmly.

Duncan's mom sighed and placed a hand on his arm. "Larry, please. Let's stop and talk about this," she implored.

"We _did _talk about this already. The boy doesn't want to fess up. As usual, he wants to do it the hard way. Now, search." His tone clearly left no room for any arguments.

Cathy acquiesced, darting a concerned face towards his son. Duncan ignored her.

Courtney's eyebrows drew down together. She was feeling incredibly confused. What the hell was going on? What did Duncan do?

Cathy first went inside Duncan's bathroom. Courtney instantly panicked internally. She knew Duncan's mom was going to the closet, as well. She was going to get caught, and her getting caught wasn't going to make anything better.

"Find anything yet, Cathy?" Larry asked loudly.

Cathy exited, holding a toothbrush and the pajamas Courtney used last night. "Duncan," she started, giving him a look, "care to explain these?"

"They're a toothbrush and pajamas," Duncan answered, being a smartass as usual.

Larry glared at him. "Quit being a wisecrack. Explain."

The sixteen-year-old snorted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You know what they're for. 'S not like anyone's staying with me."

Courtney growled under her breath. _Idiot! Why'd you say that?_

Yvonne gasped. "Oh! They must be for Duncan's late night escapades with his female friends!" she stated shamelessly.

Duncan smirked at that. "You know me so well, 'Vonne."

Larry had a disgusted face on. "Goodness gracious, Cathy, make sure to burn those after you're done searching this pigsty." He pushed his glasses up and started to help her search his room.

For some reason, Courtney felt offended. It was immature of her since he didn't know _she _was the one using those items, but still — the way he said it made it seem as if she was dirty or something. She blamed Duncan for having such a reputation in this household.

Her heartbeat quickened once she realized Duncan's dad began rummaging through his dressers. His eyes were sharp and could spot anything immediately. He wouldn't have any difficulty finding her once he opened the closet; she was in full view, of course.

Cathy stopped searching underneath his bed. She stood up and wiped her hands on her pants.

"Larry, let's just stop this. He doesn't have anything," she said, a pleading tone bubbling in. "He's your son. He wouldn't do anything like that."

"Are you sure, Catherine? Are you sure?" Larry shouted. His back was in front of the closet. "He may be our son, but that doesn't mean he's exempted from us being suspicious of him! Look at his past and present actions! Look at his personality! The boy's a criminal!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you say that! Don't you ever say that, Larry! He may be irresponsible, but he's still our son! We love him!"

His dad was silent. He let out an aggravated sigh and charged right out of the room. Cathy ran a hand through her hair and followed after him. Suddenly, she stopped at the threshold.

"Duncan."

He was still staring at the ground, an unknown expression on.

Cathy looked back slightly, tears flooding her blue eyes. "Sweetheart, I'm on your side, okay? I'm _always _on your side, because I love you. Please don't make me regret that. I believe in you, and I believe in the fact that … you didn't do anything wrong."

He didn't say anything.

She sighed at his lack of response and left.

Yvonne had her hands over her mouth. She closed her eyes, mumbled to herself, and went out, patting Duncan on the shoulder for comfort. She gently closed the door shut.

Quietly, Courtney opened the closet door and stepped out. Duncan didn't move one inch from his position. It started to scare her. She slowly walked towards him until she was a foot away from him. She tried to read him, but his face was closed away from her.

"Duncan," Courtney whispered. She touched his hand gently and felt the tenseness evaporating from it. She glanced at it and realized that it was a fist and so was the other one. With both of her hands, she held his, stroking it tenderly with her thumbs. Bit by bit, they loosened.

Duncan was now staring directly through her orbs, teals through onyxes. Their fingers were interlaced, but his fingers seemed slack and tense still.

Then, a fake, fake, fake smile came. He squeezed her hands. "It's nothing, Courtney," he spoke lowly. "My dad's just being a pain in the ass as always."

"Duncan, it seemed serious, though."

"Pshh, when is he ever _not _serious?" _Fake, fake, fake, fake …_

Concern burst in her eyes. "Your mom looks like she's about to cry. Yvonne looks excruciatingly worried. What happened, Duncan?"

He got quiet again. He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closing tightly. His grip was the squeezing the life out of her hands, but she didn't mind and didn't care.

Seeing him look like this made her heart ache hard for him. This wasn't him. He seemed so lifeless and hopeless even if he didn't show it so obviously. But she knew him so much that she could tell so easily.

"I don't know, Courtney. I just … don't know."

The next day, a hoard of police officers was outside the back of the house. Courtney looked out the window, eyes staring longingly and sadly out the window. She was advised by Duncan to stay in the room and to not do anything rash. He said he was going to come back, because he had some matters to attend to. She watched the uniformed men take Duncan somewhere in a black van. It sped off down the road, and she watched until it disappeared completely.

Yvonne wouldn't tell her anything. Duncan told her not to. All day long, she was cooped up in his room, just worrying and worrying. She tried to take a nap, but her mind was filled with so much apprehension and concern for her delinquent. She couldn't help but wonder what they were doing to him, why they were here, and what was happening.

Duncan might not come back, too.

And she would be stuck here.

All alone.

What was she to do? How could she help Duncan when she didn't even know what was going on? She didn't like being out of the loop. She hated not being able to do anything. She hated bewilderment. She hated everything right now.

Courtney noticed Natasha didn't come sneaking in Duncan's room anymore. She didn't know if it was because she was told not to anymore, or if she was affected by what was going on in his household, too. She started to pity the little girl and tried not to. She hated pity, so why was she giving some to her?

She collapsed on the bed. She turned her head to the side and saw the alarm clock. 8:49 PM. She couldn't believe twelve hours have already passed.

The door started opening, and in came Duncan. He looked the same, but his eyes … looked completely drained. He walked mechanically to the bed and fell on it, face down. His arm shot out, bringing Courtney close to him tightly.

She lifted her head to speak with him properly. "Dun — " She was abruptly cut off.

"I'm sorry, Courtney." He never said "Princess" now.

She didn't want to ask, knowing that if she did, something terrible would come out of his mouth. "F-For what?" she mumbled.

"For leaving."

Her eyes widened. She pulled herself upright. She grabbed his arm and forced him to come up with her.

"What do you mean? Why are you leaving? Where are you going?" she demanded all at once. Her mind started going in circles. She felt like hyperventilating.

He didn't meet her eyes. "Somewhere far away."

The load of confusion that had risen fell off the brink already. Quickly, it warped into extreme exasperation. "Stop being vague with me and answer _properly_! Where the hell are you going?"

"Courtney, calm down — "

"Shut up! Don't you tell me to freakin' calm down! You're gone for twelve hours, and all of a sudden, when you come back, you say that you're leaving! Why the hell would I calm down, Duncan?" She glared harshly at him.

He wiped his face with one hand, sighing heavily. He looked like he lost his youth.

_"Tell me."_

"Juvie, all right?" he answered snappily. "I'm going to juvie."

Courtney knew Duncan went to Juvenile Detention Center once. Participating in Total Drama Island was an alternative, which was bizarre if you asked her. But now that she knew how the reality show was, it really did seem like a good alternative — a crazier one, that is.

She didn't know how to react.

"Tell me something," Duncan said, voice steely. "When you and I met, did I already go to juvie?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Why didn't you tell me I was going to juvie?"

"I didn't know _when _you went! I don't even know _why _you — " That was right. She never knew why Duncan went to juvie. "Why are you being sent to juvie?"

He scowled. "I can't tell you."

Duncan hadn't told Courtney the reason why he had been sent to juvie, because he hadn't trusted her. That was what she always thought, in the back of her mind. What saddened her greatly was the fact that he had told Gwen.

"You don't trust me." It was a cold statement. It was a cold statement that bellowed out truthfulness in her ears.

"It's not that; it's just that … I don't know how you'll think of me if I do."

Well, that was unexpected.

This wasn't something the Duncan she knew would say. He would get all defensive and immediately snap some harsh comment, resulting in an altercation. _This _Duncan … was so honest and vulnerable.

Courtney could now somewhat see the contrast between the two "Duncans." Before Juvie, Duncan was a regular delinquent with a witty tongue, flirtatious mannerisms, and an overall punk. His personality wasn't hard to make any clear notion of. But what Courtney had dated was someone who was indeed a rebellious punk, but he was more cautious of his surroundings and wasn't so honest with his emotions. Although he was an inner softie, it was difficult to let him smoothly let out what he was feeling.

Perhaps his time in juvie had changed him, or _will _change him in this case.

Desperation flowed in her. She clenched her teeth and embraced him around his middle. She buried her face in his chest, tightening and tightening her hold on him. Her right ear heard his strong beats of life, and it kept her from freaking out right then and there.

He was leaving. He was _leaving_.

This Duncan was the fully fledged version of his true self. It wasn't _completely _his true self, but for some reason, this Duncan specifically was like a human depiction of his heart.

Soothing, sunny warmth enveloped her being as he returned her desperate grip. A light kiss was planted on her head.

Courtney was … heartbroken, put simply. It was as simple as that even though the emotion was far, _far _from it. She didn't need to explain to anyone about anything, because the boy she gave everything to shattered her heart into pieces — with the girl she thought was her "sort of friend." What he had done to her explained why she was like this: closed and guarded.

"I love you, Duncan," she whispered so brokenly.

And he didn't say it back. He just lifted her tragic face upwards and captured her once more.

Blackness came soon after.

**TBC –**

* * *

**gulp**:

uh, hi? ^^;

hehehehehe ... he?

crap, i'm gonna die from all the flames.


	9. solace

The rain pattered against the windows. The sound was slightly soothing to the dark-haired brunette. Although her eyes were void of any traces of emotion, her head was leaning against the pane quite comfortably. No one can take her away from her moment of solace.

_"__Duncan? Who's Duncan?"_

_"__Courtney, Duncan isn't here. He didn't once visit you during your … state."_

A flicker of emotion appeared in her gray eyes — its color matched the beholder's feelings — and as soon as the emotion began traveling speedily into her caged heart, she shut her eyes close. She attempted to focus on the sounds of her solace with struggle.

Courtney considered her mother many things. Her mother was hardworking, stern, cold, intelligent, neat, determined, stubborn, and, most of all, slightly stoic. Her upbringing had resulted in all those aspects.

One aspect Courtney didn't think was possible was that her mother was a liar.

At least she was here — unlike her dear father who apparently couldn't make it because _"work was getting intense" _at his business trip in New York.

_"__I was just talking to him earlier! He needs me right now! Why am I here?! Where is he?!" _

_"__Mrs. Simmons, is this Duncan fellow a friend of your daughter's?"_

_"__She dated him once, a terrible mistake on her part. He's nothing worth mentioning. Perhaps his presence in her mind caused the long duration of her comatose state. Courtney, you have to calm down. Duncan isn't here."_

_"__He was just right here with me! Did you guys take him away?! He wasn't ready to leave! It wasn't his fault!"_

Once she reopened her eyes, she soon took focus on one trail of rain sliding down the window. It was at the same pace as the tear sliding down her right cheek.

A knock came at the door.

"Courtney? Honey?" her mother called out quietly.

No reply, but she quickly wiped away her vulnerability.

From her peripheral vision, she could see her mother carrying a tray. There was a plate on it filled with assortments of fruit slices such as apples, cantaloupes, and oranges. Next to the plate was a book.

No matter what Courtney's state was, physically or mentally, her mother would always expect her to brush up on her knowledge. If it was any other day, any other time, any other place, she wouldn't be complaining. Couldn't her mother understand that she wanted to be left alone with the pattering rain?

"You need to bulk up on your vitamins. Once the rain clears up, I expect you to — I mean, it's _highly recommended _that you start getting active. Take a walk in the nearby park. You've been a vegetable for a long time; your body needs some energy bustling in it, don't you agree?" her mother immediately chattered on. Courtney took notice of her slip-up and thought it was unnecessary to amend it. Even if she switched around her words to make it seem like she was truly concerned for her well-being, there would always be that tone underlying her every word that showed she was ordering her.

Maybe it was her imagination. Duncan was, _so they say_. It shouldn't be surprising.

As soon as Courtney woke up, disoriented and nauseated, she began frantically searching for Duncan. She wouldn't stop asking Dr. Ramirez, Nurse Cindy, her mom, and hell, even _herself_ regarding his whereabouts.

And so because of that, Dr. Ramirez proposed that Courtney would see a psychologist. The minute that proposal exited his mouth, Samantha refused with a resolute voice. Her daughter wasn't insane. She merely woke up feeling confused as do most comatose patients would. Courtney's dream was most likely so vivid and realistic that she woke up as if she were seriously experiencing it.

A dream. An imagination. A false reality. An alternate universe.

Courtney did believe Duncan wasn't real at times or her life with him wasn't real. She never thought that someone like him would enter her life. She always had a set plan for her future, and she intended to make sure it would follow through.

Duncan was a disaster by nature. Of _course _he would go and ruin every single detail in all her plans.

(And she could've stopped him. She could've stopped the oncoming disaster, ready to wreck all the hard work she had done in creating this plan of hers, but she didn't. She accepted it without hesitation, something she wasn't aware of or wouldn't dare admit.)

She was so lost in her thoughts she wasn't aware that the pattering ceased.

She decided to go to the park.

It wasn't because her mother told her to. Right now, she refused to listen to all her "advice," because frankly, she was tired of her constant bullshit. She didn't believe the sudden transformation her mother suddenly possessed. Even if whatever her mother decided for Courtney was for her own benefit, it would mainly be for her _mother's _instead.

No, she wanted to go to the park, because she wanted to get away from all the memories she had with Duncan in her own bedroom. There were too many memories her bedroom contained. Before her accident, Courtney managed to kick away all the memories that would hit her like a blast. She created a barrier from all things Duncan. But now, it was increasingly difficult.

Her dresser bothered her the most.

* * *

_loneliness was eased by his touch_

* * *

It was her birthday.

The thought just came to her as she walked aimlessly in the park. She usually spent her birthdays alone, which wasn't her fault because she would sometimes forget and remember at the most inconvenient moments. Her parents would wish her a happy birthday through text or, rarely, face-to-face — something that she didn't particularly like because it was awkward and forced.

When Duncan greeted her a happy birthday that one time, it was one of the moments when she forgot.

_"__Happy Birthday, Princess," Duncan greeted as soon as his face showed up on the video chat._

_Courtney gasped. "I — I completely forgot," she said in disbelief. It shouldn't be a surprise, but it was kind of a letdown forgetting your own birthday. Her mind was running amuck today._

_Her criminal gave her an incredulous look. "You forgot your own birthday? Shouldn't you be pampering yourself with, I don't know, homework?" he teased._

_"__Shut up. I was busy today."_

_"__Yeah, with homework."_

_"__No!"_

_He let out a smirk. She hated the fact that he knew her to the core. "Then just _what _were you busy with?"_

_"__I was … I was busy with student body — "_

_Duncan made a sound of disgust. "That's even worse. Babe, it's your freakin' birthday. Today's all about you. You spent a majority of your birthday doing school shit." He gave her a disapproving look._

_She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, sorry for not living up to your expectations. As a matter of fact, my parents are going to take me out to an extravagant dinner in about three hours. We're just waiting for Daddy," she informed him._

_He raised his unibrow. "If you were so amped about this dinner, shouldn't you be getting ready by now?"_

_She rolled her eyes. "The dinner's in three hours, Duncan."_

_"__And did that ever stop you? Courtney, you're a geek about being early. By now, you should be blow drying your hair."_

_It was annoying on how he was pressing onto it, but, God, she loved how he knew her so much. "My mother is sleeping right now; I don't want to wake her with my noise," she lied._

_"__Uh-huh, okay." The smirk reappeared, sending chills down her spine. "Now, where's the birthday striptease?"_

_"__Ex_cuse me_?"_

_"__It should be easy since you're wearing those tank tops that have some sort of built-in bra, right? I can tell, 'cause your boobs look like they're hanging a bit." He grinned lecherously. "I don't mind."_

_Courtney was suddenly all too aware of the fact that she was indeed wearing that type of tank top and that Duncan was shirtless. Her dark eyes caught sight of his defined muscular stature._

_"__My quality may be shitty, but I can tell you're blushing."_

_"__I'm — I'm not! Quit being so obscene!"_

_"__Aw, but you love me for it, don't ya?_

_Yes, she did, in the most strangest of ways._

She shook her head, removing the memory much to her avail.

Her comatose dream hurt her. It really hurt her. Did she conjure up this dream as a message for herself? It was probably a way for her to understand what was going on with her relationship with Duncan. She didn't understand him, or she didn't bring herself to understand him.

The reason why was because Courtney never made sense to Duncan. So, whenever, he would attempt to try to make sense of her, she would become even more nonsensical. She was an unreasonable brat — she was fully aware of that fact. It was hard for her to accept people into her life, because she was used to being alone what with being brought up by workaholic parents (which, in itself, was an irony). It was hard for her to make friends, because she could be straightforward and tended to come off as snotty. She considered herself as a wise, young woman since she was forced to become independent, and so she thought she was above everyone else with the mindset that nobody was going through what she was and nobody would understand.

Duncan understood. He did. Courtney prevented him from understanding in the most unconscious and conscious of ways by shutting herself away. No, she didn't run. She merely made it harder for him. She never liked her vulnerable side being prodded at. She was afraid of him, because he easily understood her. And he wanted to understand her more.

The situation with Gwen made Duncan want to her understand her more. She could now see that. Why in the world was dear old Courtney acting like a harpy bitch concerning his "non-existent relationship" with the freaky Goth girl?

Obviously Gwen had much more in common with Duncan. She made him smile and laugh more. His face would brighten up at the sight of her. Courtney could see that their relationship was so simple and easy.

Duncan soon found that out.

Courtney's darkest nightmare came true, and she shut herself completely.

She did try to fix their broken relationship. She even used tactics she knew were ridiculous and a complete failure. It was because of her love and desperation. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't communicate. Duncan always messed with her mind. And the fact that he started growing distant and stopped trying to understand her worsened it.

It was her fault. Their downfall was mostly her fault, but he was the one who completed the fall. She started it, and he finished it. That was how it ended.

_It's not fair, though_, she thought angrily. _Why? Why did he do it?_

She could come up with so many theories, but she wanted the answer. The answer could only come from him. He wouldn't even give her that answer. It haunted her day and night.

She began trying to understand him just like he did before. So this was how it must have felt for him.

Courtney looked up and stopped walking. She was so consumed in her thoughts; she failed to notice the tree in front of her. She cursed herself and turned to the right, trekking down the pathway yet again with no sense of direction.

Once she continued that trek, her line of sight cleared up more and her dark eyes spotted something she wouldn't dare believe to be reality.

There he was, walking down the park with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He wasn't that far away, but he wouldn't be able to notice her with the playground set partially blocking her. She noticed he got bigger muscular-wise and … taller? She had his profile memorized so well; it wasn't hard to pinpoint the changes.

Unfortunately she didn't have the luxury of that gift/curse when it came to his thoughts.

But yes, there he was. The answer that had the answer to all her problems.

The longing and desperation of seeing him again compelled her to walk towards him. She didn't care that he hated her right now and that he was most likely still with Gwen. She didn't care that she looked like an absolute wreck — even though she didn't look in the mirror for a while, but she had a feeling what was going on inwardly matched her appearance. She didn't care that there might be a random paparazzi nearby or an insensitive fan that would harass them and tarnish their reputations more.

She _just _… needed to talk to him.

She needed that closure. She needed answers.

Courtney was only a few steps behind him. She could easily say his name and he would hear her since she's within hearing distance. Her hesitation held her back.

No, not her hesitation. Her insecurity. Her fright.

He began speaking in an angry tone, "No, I'm not Duncan from Total Drama _fuckin' _Island, so quit — " His teal eyes widened at the sight of her.

Yes, this was her Duncan. Or not her Duncan. But this was the Duncan she grew to love and hate at the same time. His eyes held the same mischief, mysteriousness, and caution. He had that familiar tense stature; it was most likely caused by her presence instead of his natural itch at running immediately at the sense of danger or conflict.

_Oh. That's right_, Courtney thought, blatantly staring at her ex-boyfriend. _Duncan's so used to running away. He always runs away from his strained relationship with his father. He runs away from his future. He runs away from anything that doesn't make sense to him — our relationship._

His eyes then hardened, the teal losing its once beautiful shine.

_I never made sense to him._

"I was hoping I wouldn't run into any more crazed fans, but guess I got something worse," Duncan said stonily. Quickly, he appraised her appearance, and his eyebrows furrowed a little bit.

_Eyebrows? What happened to the unibrow? _

She finally managed to get words to come out of her mouth. "Y-You're here," she said softly. Or was it her imagination yet again?

His eyebrows furrowed even more. She was acting completely uncharacteristic. It was apparent to him, as well. There should be an intense altercation between the two of them by now with heated tongues and icy words.

Things were different, though.

She was anyways.

Since she was acting completely different, in turn, he started as well. Once one began doing the unpredictable, the other would do the same. They were both used to predicting the other's actions. They knew each other so well, so it was natural for them.

And so — "You look like shit," he bluntly stated.

She shrugged. "Was in a coma for a few weeks, give or take," she answered conversationally.

"You're bullshitting, right?"

_Everything is bullshit, Duncan. _Ever since she was forcibly taken out of her imagination, nothing made sense. Perhaps the fact that she never made sense to him caused her nonsensical self to spread to her world.

The tone of his voice proved how much he despised her even though the conversation was somewhat "casual" in a sense. She didn't know what to feel. The numbness was itching to come back, but he never failed to make her feel.

"I was discharged from the hospital three days ago, Duncan." Saying his name in front of the real Duncan and after a while — she only said it mentally — was difficult. Her tongue felt like cotton.

He was unconvinced.

The familiar fire began sparking in her being. What, did he think that she was desperate for his attention so much that she would _lie _about her well-being?

"It happened on school grounds. I was carrying a box of files down the stairs, and I fell." But why on earth was she trying to explain herself? There was nothing to prove. He didn't care.

She realized he was staring through her eyes once he averted his attention away. "Your fault," he merely said.

"Of course it was," she snapped, starting to get irritable. Although she was still suffering mentally and physically — her lack of activity was beginning to take its toll on her — no matter what, Duncan wouldn't fail at riling her up.

He rolled his eyes just like he would do all the time whenever she would nag. He let out a heavy breath and began walking away.

_Or running away. _"Why are you here?"

Maybe it was because her tone got softer. Maybe it was because her exhaustion was creeping into her tone. Maybe it was because he actually acquired decency over the past few months.

He turned around and gave her the time of day.

"We moved. There was a shortage at the police department around here, so the 'rents decided to move. Peachy, huh?" he said bitterly. He made it sound so simple. Must be because of his simple relationship with Gwen.

A cool breeze whooshed past them. Automatically, she wrapped her cardigan around her. She shouldn't have picked a light one. The air was still heavy with humidity, and she had a feeling another batch of rain was to come.

She should hurry on home to hear her solace again.

"So that means — ," she was rudely interrupted.

"Yeah. Don't worry, _sweetheart_, I'll make sure to stay out of your way. Believe me, it'll be my _pleasure_." She wanted to rip off that sneering face of his as well as run away from it. Guess his knack for running away was starting to rub off on her.

Strange. The attributes they hated the most about each other was starting to rub off on one another. Duncan never made sense ever since he cheated on her — or maybe it dated before that event.

Courtney could tell that he was going to walk away and hold onto his promise. She wasn't finished. She didn't want to be finished.

"Why did you go to juvie?" she asked almost desperately. Her voice seemed to stand out noisily in the breezing park.

Duncan glared at her and took a few steps forward. "And why the _hell_ should— ?" he started spitting out.

"Because you owe it to me. Since you never explained why you cheated on me — " her voice broke hard at that, and she didn't notice the amount of emotion that was threatening to burst out of her " — the least you could do is tell me why you went to juvie. That was the _one _part of your past you would never tell." _And I respected your boundaries when whatever we were talking about almost led to that subject_, she added internally.

For a moment there, he was about to get all defensive and run away again. He looked like he didn't know what to make of her. She didn't know, either; however, she embraced this temporary anomaly since it was helping her be strong in front of her weakness.

"Please, Duncan?" she whimpered. The breeze grew colder. "J-Just this once … can you — would you just _answer _me? Truthfully?"

His posture relaxed quite a bit. She perceived that he didn't move away from his current position. Two more steps, and they would be chest-to-chest.

"For a friend, Courtney," he said oh so quietly. She could hear him, though. The breeze was nothing to her right now.

Hearing his answer, or just _hearing him answer her_, made her willingly escape a small watery smile. Her eyes crinkled at the sides, and the action tempted the tears to fall out.

Because he was Duncan. His answer reverberated tremendously just how much of a good soul he could truly be. He could be selfless. He could be kind. He could _understanding_. And he actually had those traits.

He just chose to ignore them.

Still retaining that rare smile, she whispered, "Thank you."

Duncan sighed. He looked … weary. "Go home and rest. You're just gonna look even shittier if you stay out in the cold. Learn how to take care of yourself, Courtney," he scolded. "Jesus, it's even your freakin' birthday."

And with that, he was walking away but not necessarily running away.

* * *

_he loved her rarity_

* * *

Teal eyes snapped open.

He shot up from the bed and cursed out loud once an extreme case of vertigo gripped his head painfully. He took a few deep breaths before assessing his surroundings.

Well, it didn't take that much assessment.

"What the fuck am I doing in here?" Duncan muttered. _Didn't I just see Courtney earlier? How the hell did I end up in her — ?_

"I don't know, you tell _me_!"

He looked at the doorway and saw a shocked Courtney standing there with a Popsicle in her hand, wearing a pale blue T-shirt and white shorts.

_I tell her to go home and rest, and she goes and wears short shorts. Why does she look all healthy now? She looked horrible earlier. What in the hell … ? _

"Did I say something wrong at the park?" he asked her abruptly.

She slammed the door and immediately pointed a finger at him. "No!" she yelled. "You don't get to ask the questions. How the hell are you here?!"

He rolled his eyes. "Courtney, that's my — "

"You're supposed to be competing! Right now!"

"_What? _What the hell are you talking about? The meds you're taking making you even more batshit insane than usual or what?" he snapped, losing his patience. Damn, this headache was killing him!

His ex-girlfriend went on her bed with glowering eyes. "Excuse me, but you're supposed to be competing, are you not? Or did you suddenly get eliminated?" She smacked the side of his head. "_Hello? _Does Total Drama Action not ring any bells?"

Total Drama Action.

_Action?_

Total. Drama. _Action?_

TOTAL DRAMA FREAKIN' ACTION?

_Only one answer to all this crazy._ "Okay, where's Chris? Where's the cameras?" Duncan demanded, eyes flying about in the room.

She scoffed. "Shouldn't _I _be asking that?"

* * *

**never gonna give you up:**

sequel, anyone? hehehehe.

okay, so I was feeling some TDI-sickness and, most especially, some Duncney depression. Got inspired, so I relentlessly finished this up. hopefully, it's good. I personally think it's rushed crap.

as for the sequel, I've got ideas. my slow updates are one to deal with, though. I haven't updated this in two years, and once I do, it's the end of the story.

i digress.

the sequel will be short, too, obviously in Duncan's POV. This time, he will be facing his-not-yet-ex-girlfriend Courtney, which is during his pre-Gwen drama TDA days. to put it simply, he gets to see where Courtney started changing. Duncan never saw the effect Total Drama Island had on her personally. & blahblahblah.

hope you guys stick around. (if you are still there.)

Follow meh on tumblrrrr. my url is my pen name here. you can check my profile if you'd like.

Feedback?


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